


Graphite and Amber

by MargaretKire



Series: The Cage of Your Ivory Ribs [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Acting, Art by elviscl, Attempted Sexual Assault, Elf Hux, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Hux's POV of Incense and Cinnamon, Knight Kylo Ren, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Pining, Protective Hux, Protective Kylo Ren, Protectiveness, Renaissance Faires, themes of body dysmorphic disorder/eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9202982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MargaretKire/pseuds/MargaretKire
Summary: Hux felt calmer as the makeup went on, layer after careful layer covering up his glaring flaws, until at last he could slip into his character’s skin and forget that he was anyone other than a woodland Elf. The long red wig completed the look, and he motioned for one of the other actors to come help him with the corset.As Rebecca tugged at his corset laces, Hux braced himself against the makeup table and stared into his own eyes in the mirror. Only after the dark-haired actress was beginning to tie off the laces did Hux let his eyes drop to his body in the reflection.“Tighter,” he said.(Hux's POV of Incense and Cinnamon)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for all of you lovelies that liked Incense and Cinnamon and requested Hux's point of view. The chapters will sync up to each other, though don't expect this to be a simple retelling. Hux has a lot of things going on that Kylo wasn't aware of in I&C, plus the fact that Hux has his own weird viewpoint on things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GORGEOUS Elf-Hux art by [elviscl](http://elviscl.tumblr.com/post/158758556510/a-couple-of-things-based-off-of-mothdustmouths)

Hux dabbed the thick cream under his eyes, sighing at the cold clamminess as he tapped it on his skin with his fingertips. He always kept it in the refrigerator (now yurt-sized mini fridge) to depuff his eye bags before applying makeup. Hux grumbled at himself in the mirror and blamed the extra-dark circles on jet lag.

The troupe had only been in the States since Wednesday. The first night was spent in a hotel, the actors stumbling around to each other’s rooms, sharing a bottle of vodka they bought in a nearby convenience store, Hux frowning and yelling at all of them to get some sleep. _And they wondered why he insisted on a team-building, discipline-oriented, enforced educational stint in North America._ Hux rolled his bloodshot eyes before squeezing drops into them to alleviate the redness.

Yesterday had been ten hours of patience-testing hell for Hux as the group’s leader (he didn’t like to be called the boss, though technically he was, and insisted on _leader_ because then they were reminded that he was part of the troupe as well). Setting up a tent was apparently a skill none of his six fellow actors had ever needed to learn, and therefore each tent took several failed attempts to construct. Thank god Hux had hired a local company to come in and assemble the yurt and generator, or he probably would have ended up in one of his troupe's lopsided tents, ear plugs shoved deep in his ears, trying to ignore either chatter or snoring, and pretending he was still in his London flat.

As it was, the men who assembled the yurt also took pity on the other actors and helped get their tents to rights, probably due in no small part to the actors pouting prettily at them in distress. Hux had rolled his eyes, refusing to play the ‘damsel in distress’ routine the others - even Kurt and Brandon - seemed so good at.

This morning was the first day of their performance, and Hux already had a headache to end all headaches. He stared at his own face in the mirror, sneering at his freckles and the few visible lines he’d accumulated over the last few years.

He felt calmer as the makeup went on, layer after careful layer covering up his glaring flaws, until at last he could slip into his character’s skin and forget that he was anyone other than a woodland Elf. The long red wig completed the look, and he motioned for one of the other actors to come help him with the corset.

Rebecca loped over to him, her long legs kicking out the skirt of her robe carelessly, not in character yet. That was alright. Hux only required that they stay in character after the warm up, right before heading out for the faire. For him the act started as soon as he looked the part. He understood that it wasn’t the same for the others.

As Rebecca tugged at his corset laces, Hux braced himself against the makeup table and stared into his own eyes in the mirror. Only after the dark-haired actress was beginning to tie off the laces did Hux let his eyes drop to his body in the reflection.

“Tighter,” he said.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I can’t pull it any tighter than this. My wrists were literally trembling to get it this tight in the first place.”

“I’ll breathe out.”

“You’ll faint and fall into a mud puddle, Hux.”

“On the count of three, pull. One, two, _three.”_ Hux blew the air out of his lungs and Rebecca leaned her entire weight back as she pulled the laces tight, tying them off before Hux could breathe back in. Predictably, the corset loosened slightly as everything settled into place, and as long as he kept himself in perfect posture and took only shallow breaths, he would be able to manage the eight hours ahead of him.

Looking at himself in the mirror again, Hux let his hands stroke over the sides of the corset, loving the long, lean shape of it over the robes. He knew he would be aching by the end of the day, but it was worth it to have the smallest frame possible. None of the others let themselves be laced this tight. Their loss, he thought, stroking over the small seams at his waist, feeling the way the fabric constricted around his ribs, holding him together. Keeping him whole.

He refused to think about Bronson, even as his own fingers traced over his ribs in the mirror, enough to trigger the memory of other hands. All that was in the past. This was a new beginning, and neither that man, nor his repellent father, was going to ruin it for him.

The faire was loud and muddy. They were constantly having to skirt around puddles, some of which were poorly patched up with gravel or had particle board laid over the top as makeshift bridges. Hux was glad he had insisted on high quality boots for all of them, complete with several coats of sealant that he had applied himself back in London. He ordered the troupe, on pain of death, not to get the hems of their robes dirty. None of them took it as an idle threat.

He kept them together as a group for the first day, making sure they knew how to handle the different situations that would crop up. They had trained for this for weeks before flying to the States, but he knew that they had no real idea how hard this was going to be on their bodies and minds. Staying in character for eight hours a day, with only short breaks for food, water, and using the facilities, was a brutal introduction to the world of acting. By tonight, they would all be exhausted and hating Hux’s guts. Their backs and heads would ache - even their faces would feel wooden from holding the ethereal demeanor of an Elf all day. Well, they had to learn somehow. He knew they had it in them. If they did not possess the skills to buck up and see this through, Hux wouldn’t have hired them.

His plan for the theater in London would work. He could whip this group of ragtag actors into shape, and their opening season would be fantastic. Hux wouldn’t need to rely on his father’s name or Bronson’s contacts to open doors for him. He would earn recognition in his own right.

Just last evening, he’d received a text from his contractor updating him on the work being done to the stage area of his theater. The man had sent a few pictures, and Hux had pointed out some issues he’d noticed with the way the trap doors were being redone, but otherwise everything looked like it was going as planned. It had been a leap of faith to leave in the middle of construction, but he trusted his contractor and friend, and the actors were a bigger problem than the theater at the moment.

By lunchtime, the troupe had started to unravel from the combined torment of the sun and the constant requests for pictures, all while needing to stay in character. Abbie was starting to complain at alarmingly increasing volume that she was hungry, and Brandon kept slowing down around the pubs, giving them sad puppy dog eyes as they passed by.

At precisely one o’clock, Hux herded them all back to their campsite to have some lunch. He had prepared some healthy wraps that were easy to eat without destroying their makeup, and a huge bowl of cut up fruit. He made sure everyone had a bottle of water with a straw (again because of spill and makeup concerns), and once they were through, he made everyone chew a stick of gum before retouching makeup. Then it was back into the fray for the rest of the faire day, the expected amount of grumbling buzzing around him until they made it back to one of the lanes of shops.

Rebecca, Nina, Carissa, and Kurt were doing fairly well, though Abbie and Brandon kept mumbling that they were going to die any moment from a long list of things that included: their corsets, lack of snacks and/or beer, their sore feet, and handsy photo ops. Hux quietly reprimanded them when they got too loud with their whining, and that helped for a few minutes. They weren’t even halfway through the afternoon, and he was already considering bribing them like they were unruly toddlers at the supermarket. Maybe he would simply reward the other four who were behaving, rather than punishing the two that weren’t. That might work better, actually.

His musing was cut off by a large group of guests asking for photos. Hux inclined his head the way he’d been practicing for weeks- the perfect mix of haughty and gracious that fit his character perfectly. The whole troupe posed for several shots, and then one of the guests started chatting with him about the costumes and how lovely they were. Hux answered in character, explaining in his rich put-on Elf voice that he got his robes specially made by Rivendell Elves, and the gems were mined from Erebor. He was interrupted by a peal of laughter coming from his troupe.

To Hux’s astonishment, it was Rebecca who had crumpled in mirth, with two of the tallest, most terrifying people Hux had ever seen standing in front of her. He shot her a death-glare before turning back to the guest and finishing up their conversation.

Hux was annoyed that, out of all of them, it was Rebecca who’d so completely broken character. He normally held her up as a model of self-discipline, and here she was, acting like they were hanging out backstage and not in the middle of a performance. He watched from the corner of his eyes as she said goodbye to her new acquaintances, looking appropriately shamefaced.

The two terrifying giants drew his attention again. They were most certainly performers themselves. No one who wore that kind of armor was a mere guest. It looked like they actually lived in those outfits. They wore them like other people wore t-shirts and jeans. Hux could see bits of leather that had been sewn back together on the various straps holding the woman’s armor together. There were soldering marks on the knight’s breastplate, barely showing up in the black metal, along with gashes that must have been made by some sort of blade slamming into it repeatedly. These were not new costumes. They had seen years of use and wear and had been painstakingly mended time and again.

Hux’s gaze flicked to the woman’s face. She was done up in blue war paint, the markings not so much delicate as authentic looking. It gave her the look of someone out of time. As though she had stumbled out of an ancient Celtic realm, rather than looking like a mere cosplayer. She carried a battle axe that looked like something out of a museum, and her breastplate and chainmail looked old, worn shiny in some places and tarnished in others.

The knight who stood just behind her was dressed head-to-toe in black armor. It was the sort of thing that was made to actually be worn into battle rather than just for show. It looked fully mobile, lithe instead of clunky.  The vital parts of him were covered in metal- head, chest, arms, thighs. The rest of the armor was mostly black leather encrusted with coal-hued chainmail. The helmet didn’t show anything of his face, but the width of his shoulders and his height alone were intimidating.

He reminded Hux of something, someone, so strongly that he was shocked when he couldn’t remember who. As he motioned for the troupe to follow him down the lane, he peeked one more time at the knight, standing menacing and silent at the blond warrior’s side, and raked his mind for a name.

The way the man had been standing when he first laid eyes on him… something about the heft of those shoulders, the stillness…

Hux knew he’d remember eventually. Besides, it wasn’t important. What was important was getting his motley crew through the rest of the day without any meltdowns. Rebecca was probably chastened enough to not cause any more problems, but Brandon was practically trying to sneak into line at the pubs they walked by, and he caught Abbie trying to buy cinnamon donuts when his attention was diverted by a guest. He promised them both that there were plenty of treats and alcohol back at the campsite, and that they could have as much as they wanted in two hours, they just had to make it until then.

All the while, Hux ignored the pain in his back. He ignored the way he had to breathe so shallowly that he felt lightheaded. Instead, he focused on the others, helping them to keep going, allowing Carissa to loosen her corset when she felt dizzy. He kept them hydrated and out of the sun as much as possible. And when the guests gasped at the picture they made wandering the lanes under the tall trees, he knew it was all worth it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Pinterest board [here](https://www.pinterest.com/mothdustmouth/incense-and-cinnamon/).)
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](https://mothdustmouth.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as they made it back to their campsite, the others started wailing about their all-consuming need to “get out of the bloody torture corsets _this instant.”_ He herded them into the yurt and they began the tedious business of returning to the mortal realm. Hux was distracted for at least an hour and a half, helping with wigs and robes, getting everything back on its appropriate manikin and examined for damage. He checked in with each of his team members, offering ibuprofen and ice packs for aching backs and necks.

He pulled Rebecca aside for a moment and reminded her that he expected better from her- that she was one of most disciplined of the group, and that the others looked to her for how to act. “I need you at your best,” he said. “This is not a vacation for us, we are _working._ You can’t start chatting during a stage performance, so you can’t act like that while we’re on the clock here. I know it’s difficult. It’s _meant_ to be difficult. After this, stage work will seem easy.” He offered a small smile, trying to show his affection for his teammate. She nodded and gave him a sheepish grin in return.

Once everyone was finally back from the showers and in comfortable clothes - properly medicated and with blisters bandaged - he sent them out to the fire with the big rolling cooler of drinks and a few armloads of snacks. Nina stayed behind in the yurt to help him out of his corset. With his attention turned to the others, he had remained in full costume until everyone else was set. That was what a good leader would do, and he had no regrets for the sacrifice, even as Nina tsked at the way Hux started trembling as the corset came off and his spine tried to relax, the muscles spasming painfully.

Nina met his eyes in the mirror. She shook her head, her dark hair swept over one shoulder, forest green streaks breaking up the brown. “Hux-”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted her. “I’m fine.” He turned around on the makeup stool, forcing his smile to look as normal as possible. After making sure that he was able to get out of the corset, Nina took off on an errand of her own and Hux finished the tedious process of undressing and arranging his wig and robes. Like he had with the others, he inspected his costume carefully for any signs of damage before slipping off to the showers.

The hot water felt especially good. His spasming back finally calmed as the water beat down on him. He let it sluice through his hair and over his tired face. He could still feel the effects of the jet lag. They would take awhile to disperse, he knew. Until then, it was strong coffee and a strict sleep schedule.

Hux shut off the water with a sad little huff, knowing he should get back to his team and congratulate them all on an excellent first day. He wrapped a white towel around his waist tightly and headed out to the row of mirrors and the long shelf where he set out his hair products. He caught his image in the mirror and scowled, avoiding his reflection as he slipped into his briefs and then his pants under the towel before pulling it off and tossing it into a plastic bag. He pulled on a black t-shirt quickly, and only then did he look at himself in the mirror. He didn’t want to get caught up scrutinizing himself- he needed to be out there for his troupe.

Still frowning at his face in the mirror, Hux carefully combed gel through his hair, parting it precisely and then slicking it back out of his face. He swapped his shower sandals for a pair of black leather ones, glad that he’d taken the time to get a pedicure on Thursday as he looked down at his immaculately clean nails and smooth heels.

Slipping back into the quiet yurt, Hux put away his toiletries and tossed the towel into a laundry hamper that was already brimming with everyone else’s damp towels. He needed to do at least one laundry trip this week, possibly two. He would figure out a perfect schedule for the task once their routine was settled. Feeling a little chilly but not cold, he pulled a cardigan over his shoulders before grabbing his phone and a bag of grapes out of the mini fridge, finally heading for the fire pit.

On the short walk over, he mentally prepared his little congratulatory speech. Nina wouldn’t be there, but he had made sure to tell her what a good job she had done at the faire while she was helping him with the corset. So that left the other five. Hux straightened up as much as he could, ignoring the cry of dismay from his muscles, and stepped into the ring of firelight.

His eyes snapped over all seven people sitting in a circle and he couldn’t help feeling annoyed that strangers were there. He probably should have expected others to join them, but he had wanted it to just be the the actors tonight. Frowning, he decided his speech would have to wait until warm up the next morning.

Rebecca introduced the two giants sitting next to her, and only then did Hux really look at them. They were the same ones from earlier that day- the ones that had gotten Rebecca to break character. He recalled the woman’s bright hair and striking height, but it was the dark knight that arrested his attention. He recognized the overall shape of him from earlier- the impossibly broad shoulders and the way he carried himself like a fighter. His face was obscured in the shadow of his hood, and before Hux could take a careful look at him, Rebecca was saying their names - Phasma and Kylo, to which he suppressed a scoff - and he nodded at each of them, still annoyed that he couldn’t have the team-building night he had been hoping for.

He grabbed a water bottle out of the cooler and then sat down in a chair facing the newcomers, just slightly off to the side. It was a good place to observe without appearing too obvious. He opened a script he was considering for their second performance - he had the first one so polished that he doubted even his proofreaders would find a single flaw - and began highlighting the different roles he saw his troupe in.

Hux slowly ate his grapes, taking a sip of water in between and mentally counting how many he was consuming. He crushed each one in his mouth, savoring the sweetness and the slight variance in flavor of each grape, no two exactly alike. He counted sips of water as well, making sure there was an even amount of sips to grapes, as he got further into the script.

His concentration was broken by a deep chuckle from across the fire. It was a low but genuine sound, as if it had been surprised out of its owner. Hux glanced up and saw the knight - Kylo - smiling over at Rebecca and Phasma, his hood slipping back just far enough that Hux could see the left side of his face as it turned toward the light. Time slowed down, allowing Hux to absorb that fleeting moment before it was gone. It seemed significant somehow, in a way Hux didn’t understand clearly. He felt it viscerally, like pain. Then time was speeding back up, continuing at a normal pace.

Hux stared, oddly fascinated. Kylo’s face shouldn’t have been so arresting. In profile, he looked like an exaggerated sketch of masculine beauty- his nose was long, his brow heavy, yet his chin was delicate and didn’t quite balance out the lush mouth. His smile stretched his cheek into grooves and the corner of his eye crinkled pleasantly. It was a smile to make others smile. There was something joyful and young in the expression.

Then the dark gaze turned away from Rebecca and Phasma and pointed straight at Hux. The smile dropped away and Hux was left facing an alternate version of the man. Without the smile he looked entirely different, his eyes dark and deep, the mouth almost pained. The chin looked vulnerable, the face sensitive- though Kylo was obviously used to schooling his features to appear unaffected, there was a well of pain and loss under the pale skin.

His long hair looked like ink in the darkness, almost completely obscuring the right side of his face, but as he stared back at Hux, his long throat flashed as he swallowed and Hux caught the movement in surprise. It brought his eyes to the edge of his jaw as the firelight licked over it, and that’s when he noticed the scars.

Hux could barely make them out in the dim light but they looked… severe. The reason for the long hair and hood was suddenly obvious. It was camouflage. Hux’s eyes went back to Kylo’s for a second longer before he dropped his gaze back to the script on his phone. He bit his lip and held his breath as he searched his photo gallery, bringing up a picture of his favorite drawing. He had about thirty original pieces by different artists framed on his wall in his London flat. Most of them were portraits of random subjects done by local painters. He had enjoyed collecting them in different galleries and small shops over the last few years. Before leaving for the States, he had taken a photo of each of them, thinking that he might add to the collection while he was in the US and wanting examples to show local dealers what interested him. He looked at the graphite and charcoal drawing that had caught his eye a few months ago- the one that was his favorite out of all of the others.

His eyes flicked back up to Kylo when he heard that soft chuckle again, a deep sound that went right through him. Kylo could almost have been the subject in the drawing. The hair was similar as were the features. The right side of the drawing was in shadow, the dark lines filled in aggressively, almost savagely… like scars.

Hux backed out of the gallery and returned to his script, trying to regain his earlier sense of complete concentration. Each time he heard the low rumble from the other side of the fire, his eyes went immediately to search Kylo out. Their eyes only met a few times more, and soon it seemed as though the other man was avoiding his glances. Hux felt embarrassed all of a sudden, worried that he might have been staring too obviously. The knight was clearly attempting to hide his scars and it was possible that he thought Hux was staring at them. He tried to keep his eyes on his phone, and Kylo was much quieter, his laughter dying away into silence even as the two women kept joking around and telling stories.

Abruptly Kylo was on his feet. He said a quick thanks to Rebecca and then spun around and was gone, melting into the darkness. Hux couldn’t stop glancing up at the empty chair, an odd twist to his stomach each time he saw it vacant. Rolling his eyes at himself he stood up and headed to the yurt.

Folding the cardigan and stowing it in a chest, he pulled on one of the loose, long-sleeved shirts that he liked to sleep in, and traded his dark jeans for a pair of cotton pants with a drawstring waist, which he had to pull tight to keep on his hips. He crawled into bed with his phone, pulling the blankets up to his chin. It was chilly in the tent away from the fire, but not cold enough to justify using the heater, so he just snuggled down into his comforter, glad yet again that he’d insisted on an actual bed. Sleeping on the ground would have been a nightmare with his sharp bones and delicate skin.

He checked his email, though there was nothing new. Not surprising since it was the middle of the night in England. He quickly cycled through all his social media sites, bored almost instantly. Before long he found himself gazing at the photo of the sketch again, looking at it like he had missed something, searching the lines over and over. It wasn’t the same face as the man by the fire, but it was close enough to make Hux feel like he already knew Kylo from somewhere.

Hux flicked the phone off and plugged it into the charger by his bed. He rolled onto his side, pulling a pillow into his chest, holding it tight in an effort to comfort himself. It had been awhile since he’d fallen asleep next to another person, and even then it had been… well, it hadn’t been very conducive to sleep. Often with Bronson there had been sex. Not the kind that led to peace afterwards. Bronson had usually left him unsatisfied and aching. And when he had stayed the night, he either held Hux in a stifling embrace or completely ignored him. Hux had told him he didn’t always like cuddling though, so that was his fault, he supposed. In the end he was glad they hadn’t shared many tender moments. It made it slightly easier to walk away. Or rather, limp away, in Hux’s case.

He snorted into the feather pillow, screwing up his eyes as he hugged it tighter. He didn’t want to waste any more time thinking about Bronson. He needed to sleep. It was going to be a long day and he was already sore, his ribs and spine still throbbing from the strict posture and unforgiving corset.

 

* * *

 

The coffee was truly terrible. Hux drank it anyway. Chaos reigned in the yurt.

“Hux! My wig got tangled in my necklace,” Carissa called out over the rising level of panicked voices.

“You’re supposed to put the wig on _after_ the jewelry,” Hux retorted, yanking on Kurt’s corset and getting a squawk from the broader man.

“Yeah, well, I forgot and now I’m caught.”

“Hold on a second,” Hux said, tying off the laces and getting a dirty look in the mirror by way of thanks. “Here,” Hux grumbled, picking carefully at Carissa’s wig. He extracted the hairs and then helped put everything to rights while Rebecca ran around behind him trying to get everyone else into their wigs.

Hux had been the first one ready, and so he was available for all the last minute disasters of the cast’s complicated wardrobe. He had made it very clear in the beginning that they were holding to a strict time schedule. Just because they could be late to this particular job did not mean it would work that way on a play night. Anyone who was late on faire mornings would be assigned extra campsite chores as punishment.

Once they were all in costume and inspected, Hux gave his congratulatory speech for their performance the previous day. Then they ran through their morning Elvish routine and finally set out for the faire.

Rebecca came up beside Hux and they walked a few moments in silence, trailing behind the others. “Were you planning on giving that rousing speech last night?” she asked him, a slight smirk curling her lips.

Hux huffed. “Yes, but your new best friends completely ruined our bonding moment. I hope you’re satisfied.”

Rebecca continued smirking. “Sorry,” she said, not at all convincingly. Then her face got serious for a moment and her eyes darted over toward Hux. “You, uh, did miss something, though, after you left.”

“Was it Brandon almost barbecuing himself in the fire? Because Abbie already filled me in.”

“No, although that was hilarious.” Rebecca snorted, before turning serious once more. “I asked Phasma about Kylo’s face. You, uh, saw the scars, right?”

Hux sobered. “What could be seen of them, yes, I did.”

“Phasma wouldn’t give me any details because she says that’s up to Kylo to talk about, but…” Rebecca trailed off. “Hux, I’d like it if they hung out with us more, you know? I like Phasma, and Kylo just seems… I dunno. I guess I feel sort of bad for him. Phasma says he doesn’t talk to anyone but her and Mitaka.”

“Mitaka?” Hux asked.

“A friend of theirs, I guess. Anyway, I asked them both back over tonight, and Phasma said sure, but then she gave us all a warning not to make Kylo feel weird about his face. She wants us to, you know, treat him normal and totally ignore the scars. We all said that would be no problem, and I filled Nina in this morning. I knew you wouldn’t say anything anyway, but…”

“I’m glad you let me know,” Hux said and then heaved as deep a sigh as the brutally tight corset allowed. “Does this mean no team bonding evenings?”

Rebecca laughed. “Oh god, Hux. Do you think we’ll even want to _see_ one another, let alone talk to each other after a week of this?” She elbowed him in the side only to rub her arm afterward in regret. Hux smirked for a moment, then softened and tentatively patted Rebecca on the shoulder.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said. “I promise not to embarrass you in front of your friends.”

“Gee, thanks dad,” Rebecca retorted, and barely managed to duck away before Hux swatted at her. “Be professional Hux, for god’s sake.” He glared daggers at her but couldn’t help sneering a bit before slipping into character and staying there for the remainder of the morning.

The second day was not as exciting as the first. The novelty had worn off already, and now it was just work. Backbreaking work. Everyone’s faces were strained, the realization that there was nearly two months of this left to go was hitting them. Hux had been prepared for this, but the others clearly hadn’t. They were whiny and sullen. Even Rebecca snapped at him a few times. Through it all, Hux was still proud of his team. No one was bursting into tears or demanding to go home, which honestly, he thought might happen. This weekend would be the worst. If they made it through this, then they could manage the next few months.

At lunchtime Nina and Kurt helped some of the others loosen their corsets and slump around the cold fire pit while they ate. Hux once again made sure everyone was drinking enough water. Then it was a makeup check and they were all marching back out for the final four hours of the faire. Hux couldn’t help but smirk a bit as the actors filed past, their faces looking as though they were headed to their execution. _This is the worst it gets,_ he thought at them. _Everything after this will be like a dream in comparison._ Which of course, was part of the point. From now on, whenever one of them complained about rehearsals or costumes, he’d just say, “Oh, do we need to do another faire in the States?” More than likely, that would be the end of the complaining.

During the last hour of the faire, the others had all slipped into some form of shocked coping mechanism that had them walking around in character, but with no higher brain function that Hux could detect. He knew this stage well. They would be fine once they got changed and fed. Right now, they were just trying to survive until the end, just waiting for him to tell them it was over and they could go back to camp. There was no complaining, no whining. Hux had broken them.

 _Finally,_ he thought. The rest of the faire would be easier for it. Most importantly, the rough nights back in London - when things went wrong and all they could do was just push through the performance like professionals, listening to Hux and Hux alone for direction - would be worth all this hardship.

Now it was all about surviving that last hour. Hux was just as tired as the rest of them, but he refused to show it. He had to be the last man standing, always, in order to keep the unquestioning respect he needed from the others. He lead them slowly down the quietest lanes he could find, trying to avoid the taverns now that it was getting later. He directed them toward families as much as he could, letting them talk to children and their parents, shielding the group from the drunk guests as much as possible.

Amidst all of it, Hux found his eyes sweeping over to the stages they passed, looking at the performers, only to turn away when there wasn’t a knight performing. Glints of dark armor caught his eye from time to time in the crowd, but no one was as tall and formidable as Kylo. Hux shook his head when he realized what he was doing and refocused on his team. He had to shoo away a group of teenagers that were shyly, but persistently, hitting on Abbie, and then steered everyone back to camp. The look of sheer relief on all their faces made him wince in sympathy.

He gave one more look around for anyone standing with their head reaching above the crowd, before he turned and followed the exhausted Elves back to the yurt.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The look on everyone’s faces when they finally made it back to camp was, frankly, pitiful. Hux sighed as he helped with the corset-freeing process, no one so much as saying a word to each other as they stripped down. Brandon grabbed for a pair of sweats out of his duffel bag and Hux interrupted him with an upheld hand.

“No sweats,” he announced. He got six murderous glares in return, but the ingrained obedience from the last two days was still in effect. The few actors who had started pulling out their comfiest clothes stowed them away again, and he thought he caught a hint of tears in Abbie’s eyes. “We’re going out.” There was stunned silence, the troupe looking at one another nervously. “We all need our eyebrows done-” a loud groan from everyone - “and then we’ll do something relaxing and fun. I booked us for an art night. With wine. Lots of wine.”

Rebecca sucked in a long breath and held it for a moment, looking around at the others. “Alright, Hux,” she sighed out. “For you. And the wine.” As the others started grabbing their shower toiletries in a daze, Rebecca got out her phone and sent a quick text.

“Sorry,” Hux whispered to her. “I should have said something this morning when you told me you invited them over. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Rebecca just shrugged. “It’s alright, Hux. They can come over tomorrow- er well, actually no, Phasma says she goes home on Sundays.” She heaved a long-suffering sigh at him and typed a few more lines of text into her phone. “There. Just sent Phas a message telling her you’re a sadist.”

Hux rolled his eyes and got them all out of the yurt and headed for the showers. He paused as they loped down the trail, thinking that he caught a glimpse of two tall figures in the distance, one wearing head-to-toe black armor. He hurried to follow the troupe, telling himself that he really needed this night away from the campground, all while trying to ignore the fact that they had only been there a total of two working days.

 

* * *

  

The night out proved to be an overall success, though everyone was clearly wiped-out from the long day. It made them surprisingly docile for the eyebrow grooming part of the evening, and no one complained about showing up for the art and wine evening with red blotches around their eyes, even though they were all a rather vain lot.

Hux was happily sipping his wine - having calorie budgeted all week so that he could indulge - and dabbing blobs of crimson and orange onto a black background on his canvas, when the instructor came around his easel to take a look. The man was an eccentric type, probably a local art teacher at one of the elementary or high schools. He had that starved-for-adult-company look to him. He peered at Hux’s canvas through funky glasses, his bright shirt open at the neck, a few hemp necklaces showing at his throat.

“You’ve studied art,” the instructor said, sure of himself. Hux just nodded. He wasn’t crazy about the guy’s cologne. He had a rule about men who wore tacky scents. “This is really well executed,” the teacher continued, leaning forward to look closer at the canvas, a hand gently resting on Hux’s lower back as he did so. Hux inwardly rolled his eyes. Of course this guy was interested. Why was this type of guy always interested? Why not the big, silent ones? Big and silent and strong, with dark eyes and masses of unruly hair...

On the other hand, it had been nearly a year. A whole year without the simple release of sex. A one-night stand may not be that satisfying in the long run, but it was an excuse for human contact, for caresses and kisses and sweet words. He was getting a bit desperate for touch, but he sincerely doubted that this art teacher could give him what he really wanted. He seemed like a sappy romantic. Sure, he might be willing to do a few of the things Hux liked, but he would probably talk the whole time. He seemed like the sort that couldn’t live in the moment, couldn’t let go. Hux had learned to trust his instincts. And his sense of smell. This guy and his cologne were not on the same page as Hux.

“Thank you, yes,” Hux replied, straightening up impossibly further and moving away from the warm hand at his back. “My boyfriend and I own a studio in London.” The hand disappeared as if burned.

“Oh, how nice,” the instructor said, smiling like it hurt him. After a few more comments about Hux’s canvas for face-saving purposes, he moved on. Hux let out a sigh and tried to remind his libido that nothing satisfying would have come out of that particular conquest.

 

* * *

 

Hux had limited himself to one - very satisfying - glass of wine, so he drove the rest of the team home in their big rental SUV. They were all rowdy from overindulging, shoving and teasing one another like a bunch of middle-schoolers as Hux helped load the flat boxes with their wet canvases into the back of the vehicle. By the time he was pulling onto the packed dirt and gravel road of the faire campsite twenty minutes later, half of them were asleep and the other half were playing some sort of confused version of truth or dare.

“Oh yeah?” Nina was slurring from her spot in the middle of the back seat. Kurt was poking her forehead and smirking.

“Yeah,” he replied with a sneer.

“Well, in that case I dare you to… to, uh… to kiss Hux!” Nina decided, giggling wildly.

Rebecca, who was the only other one still awake, shook her head. “He’d never get close enough to try,” she stage whispered. “Hux would flip him over his shoulder and have him pinned in about two seconds.”

“I only said _kiss,”_ Nina said, a tad hysterically. “I didn’t say fu-”

“No one is kissing Hux,” Hux said from the driver’s seat as he pulled to a stop in the small campsite parking lot and turned off the engine. “Anyone who tries to do so without permission will have laundry duty for the rest of the time we’re here.” Nina pouted and Kurt looked relieved. Rebecca just laughed and sent a text to someone.

They woke up the other three, practically having to drag Brandon out of his seat. Hux needed to have a chat with the boy about moderation. At their body weight, none of them could drink much without feeling the effects, even Kurt, who had about fifteen pounds on the next smallest actor, and still would have been considered thin.

Hux made sure everyone ended up in the correct tent before turning in himself. He lay awake for a bit, wondering if he had made a mistake not going home with the art instructor. He never missed Bronson as much as when he was alone in bed after a long day. Sure, their relationship hadn’t been everything Hux had needed or wanted, but once in awhile, on special occasions, Bronson let him have what he craved. Hux wanted that now. He was starving for it- that fine line of control. Hux orchestrating the events of their coupling in a finely-crafted dance, seemingly effortless, but requiring strict discipline on his part. Winding Bronson up to the perfect degree, becoming the sole focus of the other man’s senses and thoughts, then stretching that sensation out on a long wire, pulling, tearing, until finally they found their release at the same moment.

He realized that he was tracing himself through his clothing at the memory. Hux had often bottomed for Bronson, but he had been the one in control. He thought of the look on Bronson’s face as he rode him, that lost, reverent look. Hux slipped his hand under his waistband, impatient with the clothing. He stroked faster, enjoying the feeling of his hard-silky flesh. Grabbing a few tissues from beside the bed for what he knew would be the inevitable end of this little fantasy, Hux slipped back into the memory, Bronson moaning so sweetly and saying his name like a prayer. Hux stifled a groan, rolling his pillow over his face to muffle himself. He never could keep quiet when he was close.

The feeling of driving himself onto a man that was stronger than he was, of pulling an exquisite pleasure out of them that was beyond their control- yes. That was what he loved. That look of surrender. That look that was almost like love.

Bronson’s face swam away from his memory, only the sensation of racing to the end, a strong body beneath him, and then… a beautifully marred face- scratched as though with the point of a pencil. Dark eyes, a lush mouth looking almost pained in the throes of passion-

Hux almost didn’t get the tissues over himself in time as he came, biting his tongue against a cry, catching his come neatly in the soft paper, his other hand still moving, pulling the last milky drops up from his spasming core.

He lay for a moment, sated and drifting, one hand gently balling up the used tissues, protecting his sheets from his own mess. He eventually persuaded himself to move and get cleaned up, gently dabbing the remaining drops from the head and tucking himself away. He tossed the tissues in a plastic grocery bag, then stuffed it the trash. He would have six nosy actors in the tent in the morning, and he really didn’t need to chance an embarrassing mishap with Kleenexes full of come.

Dropping back into bed, Hux double-checked that his alarm was set for the morning. He curled up on his side and avoided thinking that the face that pushed him over the edge had not belonged to Bronson.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, no one was avoiding his eye or treating him differently, so Hux assumed he had been able to stifle his late-night moment enough that they hadn’t heard him. Good. That was a headache he really didn’t need. It was enough of a challenge to get them all into costume on time. They drank cup after cup of the god-awful coffee Rebecca kept handing them, and Hux doled out the pain relievers like candy.

The day went well, though Hux had to pretend to himself that he wasn’t looking for a knight in dark armor nearly the whole day. He had purposely _not_ looked at the performance schedule for Phasma and Kylo’s act because he really didn’t want to know whether or not he would steer the Elves in the direction of certain stages at certain showtimes.

Everyone was more or less burnt-out and crabby by the time they were sitting around the fire that evening, showered and in comfortable clothes. Brandon had one rather obnoxious guy sitting with him for a bit before they wandered off somewhere, and then it was pretty quiet for the rest of the evening.

Hux counted grapes as he ate and tried not to look at the empty chair across the campfire.

 

* * *

 

He did the laundry run on Tuesday. It took him four hours round-trip, plus half an hour organizing everything once he was back. At least it kept him busy.

By Wednesday he was bored. He usually woke up before the others, staying in the yurt to read the news and catch up on emails and make phone calls to the contractor in charge of the theater restoration. By nine in the morning, he had completely exhausted his list of tasks, and found himself alphabetizing the eyeshadows by color name on the makeup tables.

Rubbing his face, he wondered what to fill his time with. He was going to do the grocery shopping Thursday. They had enough wood to keep the fire going for a week straight. The yurt was spotless.

He decided to go for a walk. They had been here nearly a week and Hux had not investigated the surrounding trails yet. He pulled on a pair of running shoes, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed out for the nearest hiking path.

Everything was well marked, and he chose one of the longer loops around the campsite and faire grounds. He breathed deep as he marched along, concentrating on his heart rate and maintaining a decent pace. After an hour or so, the white noise of his ordered thoughts began to give way to the scenery around him, the sounds and smells of the forest seeping into his consciousness. He slowed down, looking around him and taking in the gentle roll of hills and gullies in the forest floor, the carpet of drying leaves, the freshness of the air.

Several hours later, he emerged from the woods, sweaty but peaceful. Going to the yurt, he ate a banana and half a granola bar, mentally slotting the calorie information into his tally for the day, before grabbing his shower items and a fresh change of clothes.

Standing under the water, Hux zoned out staring at the concrete wall spattered with droplets. The hike had felt good. He had gotten a little light-headed at the end, but he had neglected to up his calorie intake beforehand, like he did on faire days, to keep from passing out. After all these years, he knew his body well. He knew when he could push it and when he needed to yield to the weakness of eating. His common sense was the reason he’d never been hospitalized for what others would call his disorder. He could handle it. He was handling it. Hux turned his thoughts away from that particular rut. There was an edge there, a steep and dangerous cliff, one that he knew to steer away from before he looked too close.

Shutting off the water, he wrapped a towel around his waist and went to stand in front of the mirrors to dress and do his hair. Only, he made the mistake of looking at himself while his torso was still bare. He winced.

When he was in costume, Hux had no problem looking at himself. He even liked what he saw. He liked the way the corset looked rigid and smooth, hugging him tight and holding him together. But revealed like this, stark and pale and freckled… he hated the way he looked. He was so… ugly. Narrow in the wrong places. Wide in the wrong places. Out of proportion. A monster.

He made a disgusted sound at his bared chest and stomach, his hand coming up to pinch at the excess weight he always saw around his navel, though no one else seemed to notice it. If he could just get his waist smaller, then his shoulders would look wider, and he would overall look more balanced…

Someone moved behind him in the locker room. Hux jerked his gaze up in the mirror, zeroing in on the impossibly huge reflection in the doorway at his back.

Kylo was dressed in stripped-down fair gear- a pair of black cotton pants and a black shirt - likely what he wore under his armor. He was drenched in sweat, obviously coming for a shower after a workout. His shoulders were massive. His chest and arms were- oh god, Hux was going to have a problem not thinking about those arms tonight. He didn’t need this, he really didn’t need even more fantasy fodder about this man-

Then Kylo’s eyes trailed up the length of his body and he met Hux’s eyes with an expression of awe and wonder that left the actor breathless. Kylo returned to himself with a jerk, turning his scarred side away and heading for the showers.

It took Hux several controlled breaths to get his heart rate back under control. He did his hair much more quickly than usual and fled.

 

* * *

 

Thursday was grocery day. Hux talked Kurt and Carissa into coming with him to help carry everything. Even with their help, the trip took several hours. They filled up the entire back of the SUV with boxes and bags, and it took the combined effort of the entire troupe to unload and carry everything down the trail and into the yurt.

Hux divvied up the snacks and toiletries, handing each team member their preferred brands. He just snorted when he handed Abbie -the tiniest one among them - a truly barbaric amount of junk food in shiny, crinkly bags. She squealed a bit. “I love that Americans believe in family-sized crisp bags,” she beamed, immediately ripping into a bag of Lays and crunching loudly.

“Out of the yurt with crumbly snacks,” Hux reprimanded.

“Hey, Hux, what kinda beer did you get?” Brandon asked poking through the bags while Hux struggled to organize.

“Oatmeal stout, IPA, and amber- all local,” Hux listed. “Imperial stout, Guinness, and something called Blue Moon that Carissa wanted.”

“Dibs on both stouts,” Brandon hollered loudly, tearing through the pile of groceries in an effort to get to the beer first.

“No fair!” Rebecca challenged, beating him to the oatmeal stout and prancing around with it.

“All of you, out,” Hux commanded, not even raising his voice. Sighing, they slowly obeyed, snatching up anything they perceived to be theirs on the way out, Nina already scarfing down a candy bar Hux had bought for Rebecca.

He spent the next few hours putting away groceries and preparing meals for the weekend. He made baggies of trail mix, cut up veggies for hummus, assembled a large fruit salad, and organized supplies for making sandwiches the following day. Then he carefully wedged everything perishable into the mini fridge, wondering yet again if he should buy a second one or just figure out more room-temperature lunches.

He was just squeezing in a few bottles of water to get cold, balancing his bags of grapes on top precariously, when he heard screaming from outside. It was bloodcurdling. Hux was running full speed toward the fire pit before he even realized he had started moving. The shrieks were still ringing out in the darkness, and Hux decided that if anyone was attempting to attack his team, whether it be human or animal, his best bet was to grab a log from the firewood pile and brain the interloper.

Hux was brought up short as the banshee screeching turned into helpless laughter. Both Rebecca and her new friend, Phasma, bent over double and almost choked as a burning marshmallow got tipped out of a camp chair and sputtered out on the ground. Hux looked up at them, panting.

Rebecca and Phasma took turns apologizing through fits of giggles. The tall blond warrior, who looked like she had just come from some modeling job, grabbed the bag of marshmallows and waved it Hux. “I’ll make you a s’more,” she gasped, finally regaining some composure.

“No thank you,” Hux responded, trying to be polite and not grit his teeth. He sat down instead, thinking that he would stay by the fire for a little while before going back to the yurt to check that everything was ready for the following day. He had a few tweaks he wanted to make to the girl's costumes and-

There was a movement outside of the ring of firelight. Hux’s full attention snapped to it, and he realized that Kylo was sitting there in the semi dark. He had pulled his hood forward and it was his hand that had caught Hux’s notice. Their eyes caught and Hux swallowed hard, feeling strangely exposed. Kylo stared steadily back, his face oddly calm in the darkness. He looked like a classical painting- a Caravaggio - illuminated skin against the black canvas of the pines.

Hux was suddenly distracted by Phasma’s voice calling his attention away from the knight. “So, Becca, Hux, why are you guys here?” she asked. “I mean, why a ren faire?” Rebecca was laughing and Hux just stared between her and the blond. Phasma made a gesture at Kylo, who flinched. “Like this kid said, you are way too professional to be here. You should be on stage or something.”

Hux thought of his theater- all this training they were going through. All for the express purpose of being on stage. Rebecca gave him a look and he gestured at her to explain, as she clearly wanted to.

“It’s sort of a workshop,” Rebecca said, before pointing at Hux. “His idea of course. The rest of us are all either about to graduate or just have, but Hux has been acting for years. He sorta scraped us all together and is helping us learn discipline. He claims that’s the only thing we’re lacking.”

Hux wanted to groan. She made him sound like he was ancient.

“So wait, you are playing Elves at a ren faire, in the States, thousands of miles from home, camping in the woods, just as acting practice?” Phasma asked, looking at Rebecca like she was joking.

“Um, well, yeah.” Rebecca’s eyes drifted over to Hux and she gave him a little nervous smile. Phasma watched the interaction, her blue eyes narrowing.

“And this guy is your troupe’s, what? Sugar daddy?” Phasma asked, clearly trying to get a rise out of either Hux or Rebecca. Hux choked a bit at the wording, and he thought he heard Kylo make some sort of noise at the same time.

“Well, when you put it that way...” Rebecca wheezed, barely able to talk through her laughter. She was drawing breath to say something else, something likely damaging to Hux’s reputation.

“I recently acquired a small theater in London,” he said, before Rebecca could get it together enough to form words. “We have a show opening in January, and this lot is the main cast. They lacked the required discipline, but otherwise, they are the perfect choices for the roles. I want to keep the troupe together long-term, and I realized that drastic steps had to be taken with their education.”

“Hux offered us a range of options,” Abbie said shyly. “This sounded like the most fun. At the time, anyway. Then he showed us the costumes.” Rebecca groaned in sympathy with that statement. Hux sniffed. The costumes were lovely. Not to mention expensive. They were film quality, for god’s sake. Realism demanded sacrifice, he had explained this over and over-

“What were some of the other options?” Phasma asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She threw a glance over at Kylo, who seemed to be paying attention to the conversation.

“Um, let’s see,” Rebecca said, getting ready to list off the range of weird ideas they had come up with months ago. Hux mentally prepared himself for the imminent demise of his dignity. “Theme park work. Like dressing up as Disney characters and stuff. Then there was that one where we would only be allowed to speak lines from Shakespeare’s plays for two months, and if we misquoted we couldn’t speak for the rest of the day.”

“No, no, the best one was the strip club idea,” Brandon suddenly butted in, a beer bottle held loosely in his hand. Hux worked at keeping his face impassive.

“Oh my god,” Phasma cried. “Please tell me all about that one.”

“What was it again?” Rebecca asked, turning to Hux. “Two months at a classy dance club? We almost went with that one, but we would have been required to learn pole dancing. Besides, Abbie is shy.”

“Hux would have been the star for sure,” Brandon said. “He probably would have given up acting and stayed a stripper.” Hux couldn’t help but give him a sly smile, even though he was inwardly cringing. They’d had a whole conversation about it at the time, and the team had voted Hux most likely to succeed at any sort of sex work venture. It had been an interesting evening back in the theater’s prop room, a bottle of Bailey’s being handed around as they all tried on hats left over from old productions and choked on the dust.

“No,” Rebecca laughed. “I see Hux at a BDSM club instead.” Hux’s heart rate picked up. Rebecca knew things about him the others didn’t, and she had been very discreet so far about keeping those things private. He wondered how much she’d had to drink in order to get so close to the truth in front of the rest of the team, not to mention virtual strangers

“Oh, absolutely,” Brandon said, and then they suddenly had everyone’s attention, the other four actors dropping their own conversations and turning towards them instead. Hux couldn’t help but sneak glances over at Kylo, who was watching them with his dark eyes- gleaming with sparks of red and gold in the firelight, revealing nothing.

Rebecca thumped Hux on the shoulder, pulling him back from his reverie. “We have your new future all planned out, boss. If this whole acting thing doesn’t work out, we will personally take you to the most prodigious club in London and sign you up as a dom. You would never need to touch your father’s money again.” Hux knew that anything he said would just be used against him, so he remained as gracious as he could, not confirming or denying anything.

“This slip of a thing?” Phasma asked Rebecca, just loud enough that he could hear the exchange. “A dom? No way.”

Rebecca gtinned. “Oh, don’t let him fool you. He's terrifying.” Hux rather liked that description of himself, and looked over at Phasma to see if she would challenge it. She gave him an appraising look, smiling softly. Her eyes flicked to Kylo for just a second and then back at Hux.

“Okay,” Phasma said, her voice low and a gleam that Hux didn’t entirely like creeping into her eyes.

“Hey, who drank all the Imperial stout?” Brandon suddenly whined, looking around like it had simply been misplaced. Carissa and Nina both giggled and Brandon shot them a withering look. “The Blue Moon was for you guys,” he complained.

Hux tuned out the ensuing bickering, pretending to scroll through his phone while keeping an eye on Kylo. He saw the large man look his way a few times, and once he caught him staring as though mesmerized at Hux’s feet. Curious, Hux let the sandal dangle from his foot carelessly, the light from the campfire highlighting his pale skin. Kylo shifted in his chair.

Oh, well, _that_ was interesting.

It was only a short time later that Kylo was standing, just as suddenly as the first time, and was gone. Hux watched after him, realizing that they had yet to say a single word to one another.

Once again, the empty chair across the fire was distracting. Hux finally stood up himself, shoving his phone in his pocket and turning to go. Phasma caught his eye, raising her platinum brow and giving him a look. She turned to Rebecca and whispered something, then both women were looking at Hux. Rebecca seemed confused for a moment, but then her face cleared and she smiled. Turning to Phasma, she cupped her hand around the blond’s ear and whispered something back. Phasma nodded and they both laughed, sneaking looks at Hux as he finally walked away from the circle of people and headed for the yurt to finish preparing for the following day.

That night in bed, Hux couldn’t help but think of Kylo’s eyes on him, his big hands on Hux’s smooth feet. First, he imagined Kylo running his calloused fingers over the tops and between his toes, but that quickly escalated to the knight bending Hux double, holding his feet to his massive chest, the dark hair falling over his face, moving across his features as Kylo drove into Hux’s prone body-

Hux bit his tongue again as he came.

He hadn’t thought of Bronson once.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Starting that Friday, Hux split the troupe up into smaller groups. His intention was to rotate the actors so that each member got some one-on-one time with him each weekend. That way, they would have more interaction with guests, and not be able to rely on Hux to do all the talking or to get them out of awkward situations. Hux smiled to himself, thinking that his troupe would never have any trouble handling hecklers or over-zealous fans once they were back in London.

They all gathered in the yurt for lunch and Hux helped make sandwiches for everyone, trying to decide if eating something himself was really necessary. He had his normal daily and weekly calorie intake and energy expenditure charts in his head, but he had been hit with the idea of maybe having something to drink with Kylo if the knight joined them again that evening, and he wanted to try and budget all his calories for that.

In the end, he ate half a banana, handing the other half to Abbie, who gobbled it down without question, and drank a full bottle of water before heading to the bathrooms to brush his teeth. He had already teamed the others up, three and three, to work the north and the south sides of the faire, and he planned on wandering back and forth between them, observing them without their knowledge. That way, he could give valuable feedback the next morning at their daily warm up.

Hux touched up his foundation in the tent before marching out to the lane. He began to enjoy his walk through the faire, able to focus on what was going on around him without the constant worry of watching over someone else. His attention was caught a few times by the different acts, and he stopped to listen to a Celtic band for a bit before moving on, only to find himself watching a two-person juggling act a moment later. He checked each stage as he passed, ignoring the comedy acts and looking on with vague interest at a few of the other performances.

That was how he came across Kylo and Phasma at the moment of Kylo’s gruesome death, the crowd roaring in bloodthirsty pleasure as the knight let out a truly terrifying scream before doubling over around the battle axe slammed into his torso. Kylo gasped a breath that sounded like his last before keeling over and hitting the wooden planks of the stage with bone-crunching force.

Phasma made a show of working the embedded axe out of the knight’s fallen body, holding it over her head and yelling in victory. Hux was too far away to see if the axe had blood on it or not, and Phasma was holding it at an angle that made it difficult to tell. Of course he knew the blood wouldn’t be real. It would be from a fake blood packet if there was anything at all. His eyes went to the still figure on the boards, a massive black shape of broken limbs, quiet and motionless in defeated death. Hux’s fingers gave a small twitch against his robes, before he wound them into fists to stop their fidgeting.

He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until Kylo finally moved, bounding up to his feet as Phasma began working up the crowd for donations and sales, telling them the time of their shows for the following day, teasing the crowd that she knew “for a fact that you are a bunch of huge nerds and will be here tomorrow too. But for tonight, we feast and drain our ale, for which we need gold!” She gestured to a small man picking his way through the crowd with an upturned Robin Hood style hat, a long pheasant feather trailing over his arm as he showed off a t-shirt in his other hand.

Hux squinted at the design, unable to make it out from his spot out near the lane. He had taken a few steps closer to get a better look, when the small man was suddenly being yanked into the embrace of an obviously drunk guest. Hux jumped slightly, startled at the man’s cry of alarm and the rough way he was being handled. His eyes flicked up to the stage, taking in Phasma’s tight face and Kylo’s rigid posture. The knight looked like he was rooted to the spot, a dangerous predator fixated on reckless prey.

“Hey blondie!” Phasma’s eyes narrowed at the drunk man who was addressing her. “Tell ya what. I’ll trade this little guy here for a kiss from you.” The idiots all made a big fuss then, pushing the small man back and forth between them and shouting at the tall woman on stage, each demanding kisses and attention from her.

That’s when Hux’s eyes snapped back to Kylo. The knight was already off the stage and headed for the group of men like an arrow straight to a bullseye. A few of the guests, who were standing and staring at the bellowing men, parted like water in front of Kylo as he zeroed in on his goal. He was a head taller than anyone around him, the sun glinting off the black metal of his helmet, and for a moment Hux felt as though he were seeing a figure out of time.

The men had noticed the knight advancing on them, and one of them reached out to stop him, trying to grab his arm. Kylo barely moved in response, tossing him like a rag doll. The guy was left sprawled on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He hadn’t even managed to slow Kylo down.

Phasma lunged after Kylo and got a hold of his shoulders, but she was simply dragged along behind him, her heels slipping in the dirt, trying to find purchase. “Oh shit,” she exclaimed. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit,” she chanted, her eyes huge as she tried, and failed, to stop him.

The drunk guest, still grasping the small man in his clutches, finally seemed to notice the threat barreling down on him and let go in order to shield himself from the gloved hands that were up and reaching for his windpipe. The smaller man, now free, quickly snatched at the knight’s wrists, distracting him from the sweating and shaking guest.

“I’m okay, Kylo!” The small man was piping urgently. “I’m okay! It’s okay. No one’s hurt, alright? It’s okay…”

Kylo lifted his head and watched as the drunken group ran off, throwing idle threats over their shoulders as they ran for their lives to the lane. Hux took note of the guy who had started the incident, committing his face and attire to memory, intending to act as a witness should the man foolishly follow through on his threats to involve security.

Hux looked back at the huddled group of three in front of the stage and headed towards them. Phasma had her long arms wrapped around Kylo’s shoulders and she seemed to be talking to him, too low for Hux to hear. Her blue eyes glanced up and met Hux’s gaze. She shook her head at him, her expression serious. Hux stopped, waiting. He had intended to make sure they were alright, and to offer to go to security and get the men thrown out of the faire. As he watched, Kylo, who was still looking in the direction the men had gone and hadn’t seen Hux, began struggling to breathe.

Phasma pulled one of his tree trunk arms over her shoulders, hauling him, stumbling, back behind the stage. The smaller man, now in tears, followed after, his little hand reaching out and touching Kylo on the back.

Hux didn’t know what to do. Phasma hadn’t wanted him to get too close, but Kylo was obviously in distress. He might need medical attention. After hesitating for only a moment, Hux walked up to the side of the stage and stopped where he could see Kylo, now sitting in the sparse grass as Phasma helped him swallow some medication.

With the helmet off, Hux could see the true devastation of Kylo’s face in the sunlight, the scars raking deep into his raw-looking flesh. His heavy hair swung forward with his struggling breaths, his skin deathly pale and his lips nearly white as he struggled to get air into his lungs. Phasma was helping him to slow his breaths, to calm down. Kylo was intent on her face as she knelt in front of him, coaching him through what Hux now recognized was a panic attack.

Kylo turned his head and looked at the small man with the cap earnestly, asking if he was alright, and the man said that he was. The tiny man still had tears in his eyes, fretting over the huge knight. Hux shifted anxiously on his feet, not liking the intensity Kylo focused on the other man. He still wasn’t sure if he should go to them or not. He wanted to, but Kylo’s face was so exposed, his scars showing plainly and emotion etched into every feature. Somehow Hux knew that only these two people ever saw him like this. Something pinched in his chest.

Phasma caught Hux’s eyes then, subtly shaking her head, and he had his answer. He nodded and slipped out of sight as the trio got to their feet. He walked back to the lane slowly, checking over his shoulder several times. Feeling dazed and unsettled, he made his way back towards the north end of the faire, wondering the whole way if he should have done something more.

 

* * *

 

Three years ago, Hux met Bronson at a fundraiser in London. He had been idly sipping a flute of Champagne while avoiding his father’s associates. A few of them had made no small secret of their intent to, as they so delicately put it, 'get to know him better.'

As Hux made his way around the creaking wood floor of the gallery, staying one step ahead of a particularly vulgar producer who had a habit of pawing at him, a tall figure stepped into his space, bringing him to a reluctant halt. The man was his father’s age, perhaps a bit older. He was gaunt, his skin pale and fragile looking. His dark eyes bored unblinkingly into Hux’s face. After a moment, he smiled, the expression twisting into something unsettling on his face.

“Armitage Hux,” he said, his voice deeper than Hux was expecting. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. I’m a friend of your father’s, and I’ve just returned from a trip abroad.” Hux nodded, forcing a smile, and waited for a name. He wasn’t given one. Instead the older man motioned to someone standing nearby, and a man in his early thirties stepped forward. “This is my son,” he continued. “It was a delight to meet you at last, Armitage,” he concluded, slipping away into the crowd and leaving the young man behind.

In stark contrast to his father, the son flashed a bright smile, his handsome face lighting up. He was someone Hux would have picked out of the crowd himself if he had noticed him earlier. His tanned hand was extended in greeting, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Hux cautiously laid his own slim fingers in the strong grasp.

“I apologize for my father,” he said smoothly. “He’s used to everyone knowing who he is and fawning over him.” He smiled again and cocked his head charmingly. “I’m Bronson, by the way. Bronson Pike.”

Hux smiled slowly, feeling oddly charmed by the man, his hand lingering in his grip. “Pleased to meet you, Bronson,” he said.

 

* * *

 

Hux broke down and looked at Phasma and Kylo’s schedule for Saturday. He kept himself in check the entire morning, working with Kurt as they moved clockwise through the faire. He tried to keep his attention on his partner, but the closer it got to the 11:30 performance at the Crimson Saber stage, the more fidgety he became.

At last, he managed to casually walk them by the stage at show time, only to hear one of the faire workers - a hideously obese man wearing a leather cap - announce that the scheduled act had been cancelled, and a different act would be taking its place. Hux didn’t wait to see what the woman in the belly dancer’s outfit was capable of, instead steering Kurt back to the campsite for lunch.

When he got to the yurt, Hux grabbed his phone off its charger and sent a text to Rebecca.

_I noticed that Phasma and Kylo’s show was cancelled. Have you heard anything?_

He then ignored his phone while he threw together a large Caesar salad with grilled chicken breast for the crew to have when they got back. Kurt made up a pitcher of iced tea and headed out to the picnic table. Hux was just sprinkling some curls of Parmesan cheese over the large bowl when his phone buzzed.

_We actually just ran into Phas buying donuts. She said they are taking the day off, but prob back tomorrow. Did you need to talk to her?_

Hux sighed and set his phone down, not bothering to send a response. As the others started pouring into the yurt and grabbing silverware, rolls, butter, and packages of cookies, Hux carried the large salad out to the picnic table. He watched as the others dished up their plates and teased one another, Nina sneaking cookies off Abbie’s plate just to get her to gasp and throw a tantrum.

Hux eyed the salad for a moment. He had already mixed in the premium Caesar dressing, along with fresh croutons and the Parmesan - delicious, but not something he usually allowed himself. He had calories left over from yesterday when his plans for joining Kylo in a beer had gone unfulfilled, and he and Kurt had done one more lap of the faire than he had planned. If he stuck with water and grapes for the evening, he _could_ have a small salad and be within his calorie allotment.

But Kylo might come with Phasma if she were to hang out with Rebecca in the evening. Hux could offer him a beer… and get one for himself. They could sit and talk about local craft beer together. Hux had looked up a bunch of information on his phone about the local breweries after he noticed how much Kylo seemed to like the selection of beer he had bought. He was prepared to discuss any of the local breweries in depth. And if Kylo enjoyed the conversation, well, a few of the breweries offered tours and tastings. Maybe he would like to accompany Hux on an outing…

He slowly ate half an apple, washing it down with a bottle of water, before brushing his teeth and trading out Kurt for Carissa.

 

* * *

 

Hux washed his face carefully after they were all out of costume. He dabbed extra moisturizer around his eyes and checked over his hair more than once, adding a bit more product to keep it in place. He brushed his teeth again and then fiddled with his cardigan for a few minutes, trying to decide if it looked better with the buttons done up or open. He left it loose, only to close the buttons as he walked back to the yurt. The feeling of being held in and hidden around his waist - his problem area - made him feel more confident.

Straightening up to his full height, he walked into the circle of firelight, pretending not to scan the shadows for a hulking figure. His shoulders drooped a quarter of an inch when he saw only his troupe around the blaze, some of them wrapping potatoes in foil to roast in the hot embers.

After detouring to the yurt to drop off his shower bag and grab water and his pre-counted grapes, Hux plopped into the empty chair next to Rebecca. He tried to read her texts out of the corner of his eye as she tapped away on her phone, only catching a few words before she sighed and tilted the screen for him to see. He leaned in without any hint of shame and read through her texts with Phasma.

Phas: ... _so I decided to hang out with him 2nite_

Becca: _no prob. I understand. hope he feels better! :) he can come hang with us while ur gone this week if he wants_

Phas: _i’ll tell him. actually, no, we will have to force him_

Becca: _what does he like? we could bribe him with food_

Hux scrolled down as the next message from Phasma buzzed.

Phas: _he’ll eat absolutely anything, so don’t worry. the problem is getting him to leave our campsite_

Rebecca took back her phone and shook her head while she replied to her friend. She looked up at him then and smirked. “I may have just accidentally adopted a socially inept knight into our little acting family, Hux,” she sighed.

Hux shrugged and ate a grape. He realized with a start that he had lost track of his count. “That’s fine,” he said, as casually as possible. “We have more than enough food. He can show up whenever.”

Rebecca peered at him out of the corner of her eyes, the smug smile still playing around her mouth. “Okay,” she said, turning back to her phone and typing again. A reply came a moment later, making her choke on a laugh, but she pocketed the phone before Hux could see what was on the screen.

He leaned back in the chair, his grapes gone, and tried to distract himself with another new script.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god!” Nina squealed, covering her mouth as she watched the knight drop to the stage with a death cry. Hux stood next to her at the edge of the crowd, trying to appear stoic and failing. “That looked so real,” she huffed, as Kylo climbed back to his feet and Phasma whipped up the crowd for donations. The same small man strolled through the visitors, smiling and offering the feathered cap.

Hux shrugged and led her back to the lane where he explained, yet again, that she couldn’t just keep smiling at everyone. They were supposed to be Elves, dammit. Serene, graceful, uninterested. Nina waved at a little boy wearing a Millennium Falcon t-shirt, and Hux could barely keep from rolling his eyes.

“That is the best fighting act I’ve seen yet,” Nina gushed, tossing her long black wig over her shoulder and looking as un-Elf-like as humanly possible. “They are amazing.”

“Nina, posture.”

“Right, right.” She straightened up and pulled her robe up from where it had slipped down one shoulder, adjusting the slender braids of the wig. “So, you gonna talk to him any time soon?”

“What?” Hux stopped walking abruptly and almost got stepped on by an unconvincing orc wearing black sweat pants.

“Kylo, you know,” she gestured at the air, “tall, broad shoulders, carries a sword as big as my leg…” Nina raised her eyebrows at him. When he failed to respond and just kept walking, she scrambled after him. “You may have noticed the crazy hot guy with the scars sitting at our campfire?” she tried again. “Huuux,” she whined as he continued to ignore her.

He would have rubbed his face in exasperation if it wasn’t covered in makeup. “What makes you think I haven’t talked to him?”

“Have you?”

“No,” he admitted. She threw her hands in the air like, _well, then._ “What makes you think that I _want_ to talk to him?” Hux tried.

Nina snorted so hard, a guest walking by jumped and looked around for the noise. “The only thing you look at more is your phone, Hux.”

“That’s not true.” He gave his best stoic impression. Nina let it drop, but he caught her trying not to smile as they continued walking down the lane.

 

* * *

 

Hux lasted until Wednesday.

“You should invite Kylo over,” he said to Rebecca in a low voice so he wouldn’t be overheard by the others. He saw something flicker over her face before she repressed it.

“Yeah?” she asked, unruffled.

“Yeah,” he said casually. “I mean, everyone else is inviting people over here for hot dogs and beer, it would be rude not to at least ask.” He hoped she wouldn’t realize that he had organized the whole party just so he could make that excuse.

“Sure,” she responded, a small smile appearing and then disappearing on her face. “Want me to have Phas text him? I don’t have his number.”

Hux shrugged. “Sure,” he said just as unaffected. He wandered back to the yurt, trying to make it look as unhurried as possible. As soon as he was inside, he began going through all the groceries yet again, making sure that he had every brand and every type of hot dog, bun, chip, and condiment that Kylo might possibly like, plus the stash of local beers that he had hidden from the troupe.

Striding back out to the fire pit, he wrangled chairs around for several minutes. He remembered that Kylo liked to sit farthest away from the fire, and that he also didn’t seem to like people overhearing him, so Hux made a few groupings of chairs back from the main ring. Kylo was likely to pick one of those seats, and then Hux could grab the other, and start a friendly conversation… and ask him out. _Ask him out?_ Well, that was the plan. He could always turn it into a group thing if Kylo felt uncomfortable. After all, what if Kylo didn’t like men? What if he was already dating someone? What if he was actually involved with the tiny assistant? Or Phasma?

Hux started to panic. This was a stupid idea. He didn’t know anything about Kylo. Yes, Hux was interested in getting know him, but he didn’t even know Kylo’s orientation. He would just have to stay cool, be friendly, try and see if Kylo dropped any hints…

“He’s not coming,” Rebecca said, stepping up next to him, still holding her phone. She took one look at Hux’s face and said, “But let me go talk to him. He’s probably just worried we don’t really want him here.” With that, she disappeared down the trail.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before Rebecca was back, a looming shadow trailing her. The campsite was a whirlwind of activity by then, everyone and their guests fluttering around and fighting over the best cooking spots.

Hux bolted to the yurt, grabbed the six pack of beer he had been saving for Kylo, and made it back in time to slip a bottle to Rebecca to hand to Kylo. “And make sure he eats,” Hux whispered to her as he gazed fretfully at the picnic table, wondering if there was enough food. He could always make an emergency run to the store. Or pick up pizzas. Or-

“Don’t worry,” Rebecca said, reading his mind. “There is an entire cooler of hot dogs we haven’t gotten into yet, and if we run low, I can go to the store.” Hux nodded gratefully.

His good mood evaporated as soon as he looked over and saw Kurt settling into the chair next to Kylo. The two didn’t talk, but Hux could see Kurt giving the knight looks. He seemed especially appreciative of the way Kylo was taking sips from the beer bottle in his hand. Hux took a couple deep breaths, and then tried to catch Kurt’s eye without anyone else noticing.

Rebecca brought Kylo a plate of food and the knight actually smiled and asked for another beer. Hux, who was hovering just close enough to hear, handed another of the craft brews to Rebecca to give to him from where he was guarding them with his life.

He managed to catch Kurt’s eye, and the actor nearly jumped out of his skin from the look Hux was giving him. Kurt scrambled up and Hux took his place before anyone else came to gawk at Kylo.

Finally, he was sitting next to him. Hux’s mind went blank. He couldn’t remember any of the things he had been planning on saying. All the facts and stats on beer he had poured over refused to coalesce into an intelligent, casual statement. He almost asked, So, how do you like the beer? It would have been the easiest thing to say. The most straightforward. But Kylo wasn’t looking over at him, wasn’t meeting his eyes. Hux had the weird feeling that if he were to ask the knight a question, Kylo would go on staring at the fire, not acknowledging it at all.

So he stared, and tried to pretend that he wasn’t. Kylo was looking up at the stars. Hux watched him tilt his long neck back, the firelight painting his throat gold and orange, the light reflecting in his dark eyes as he gazed up. Hux held his breath. Then Kylo was looking straight into his eyes and Hux froze.

With horror, he heard his own voice ask a question, one that he had not been planning on asking, but sprung from his mouth fully formed. Something about Kylo always dying in the performances. Shit. Not smooth. That would have been the time for the beer question. Not whatever it was he’d just asked.

Kylo’s eyes widened and he shook his head, explaining that they had a new routine where Phasma was supposed to die. His voice. Hux shuddered. It was rich, deep, oddly clipped. Hux wanted to hear it again. So he started asking him questions, interrogating him about the routine, about the assistant, about Phasma. He couldn’t stop himself, even when he started to sound intrusive to his own ears, and he pushed for answers on Kylo’s living situation. He suddenly needed to know if Kylo and Phasma were together or not. He needed to know if he had a shot with this man.

“Are you interested in Phasma?” Kylo asked. Hux froze. He felt his jaw drop in shock. “Because we’re not together, as a couple, I mean, if you wanted to ask her out.” Wait, what? “She um, she thinks you’re uh, attractive…” His dark eyes dropped and moved back to the fire, his long body shifting in the camping chair.

Was Kylo trying to set him up with Phasma? Maybe he thought Hux was coming on too strong and was letting him know, indirectly, that he wasn’t interested. Hux felt his stomach tighten. He was an idiot.

After a moment of awkward silence, Kylo asked Hux if he wanted a beer. Hux felt a rush of misery envelope him as he politely declined. The moment Kylo’s back was turned, Hux snuck back to the yurt and hid for the rest of the evening.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overthinking. So. Much. Over. Thinking.

“Hux, why did you run away last night?” Rebecca handed him a cup of her god-awful coffee and leaned against the center post of the yurt, eyeing him with what looked suspiciously like a smirk.

“I did not run away,” he huffed. “I needed to answer a last minute question from Harry about the carpentry on the mezzanine level.” He didn’t mention that the email had actually come through that morning.

“Sure, Hux,” Rebecca replied. She turned back to the mannequin holding her costume, adding a few stitches to a fastening that was coming loose. Hux returned to his phone for a moment, scrolling through building schedules and pricing sheets. He shifted minutely.

“Has Phasma ever, uh,” Hux began, knowing that the likelihood of being alone with his right-hand woman might not present itself again any time soon, and that he needed to take advantage of it. “Has she ever… said anything about me?”

Rebecca’s eyes darted over to him, giving him an all too innocent look. “Said anything about you, Hux? Like what?”

“Well, maybe that she was, I don’t know, interested in me? A little bit?”

His best friend laughed at him, nearly sticking her finger with the needle. “Who told you that Phas liked you?” she managed between guffaws of laughter.

Hux shrugged, stung. “Kylo said something about her finding me attractive,” he muttered.

“Wait, _Kylo_ said that?” Her eyes got wide and she looked like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be serious. “Hux, what were you guys talking about?”

Hux shifted uncomfortably and pretended to look at his phone. “I may have asked a few questions about their living arrangements, and he may have jumped to the conclusion that I was interested in Phasma.”

Rebecca just shook her head. “How do you manage to do this to yourself?” she asked. Hux avoided her eyes. “Well, you may be in for an awkward night.”

“Phasma is coming back to camp tonight, isn’t she?” Hux asked. That would mean that Kylo might come with her if she was hanging out with Rebecca. He instantly began fretting that he didn’t have any clean casual clothes to wear.

“Ooooh,” Rebecca cooed. “Really looking forward to seeing her, huh? I’ll make sure and let her know that you’re interested. Though Kylo probably already has-”

“Oh god,” Hux said, covering his face with his hands. “You’re joking, right?” he asked from between his fingers.

Rebecca shifted her needle to her other hand and clapped him on the back. “About me telling Phas, or Kylo telling Phas?” She smiled at him, enjoying this way too much. “Don’t worry, Phasma isn’t dumb.”

Hux gave her a look. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Rebecca shrugged, tying off her thread and snipping it with a tiny pair of scissors. “Well, both Phas and I know that it wouldn’t be her that you, uh, would like to put the moves on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, unconvinced. “So when I tell you that Brandon finished off the rest of that local brew with the black label that you’ve been trying to hide, you won’t care at all.”

“He did _what?”_ Hux fumed. “All of it?”

“Every drop.”

“I’ll have to go and get more,” Hux said, mentally ticking through his schedule for the day. If he went into town to get beer, he could also stop by the laundromat and wash some clothes so he’d have something decent to wear. All that he had clean at the moment would look out of place around a campfire. Kylo seemed to like black, so he would wash his black t-shirt and cardigan… though that needed to air dry. Maybe it was still clean enough to wear another night...

He checked the time. If he left right away, he would be able to make it to the beer shop and the laundromat and still make it back in time to organize the camp for dinner. His mind reeling with plans, he quickly gathered up the outfits he wanted washed. He hadn’t planned to do laundry until next Tuesday, meaning that, including tonight, he might need as many as five outfits for lounging around the campfire. He had three black shirts, one pale green, and three pairs of jeans. Would it be enough? Did he have time to stop at the mall in town and get some more clothes?

Stuffing his keys and wallet into his pockets and checking his phone again for the time, he hurried out of the yurt in a frenzy. He completely missed the look Rebecca shot him as she pulled out her phone and started texting.

 

* * *

 

Hux made it back in time to take a shower and shave before changing into his clean clothes, finally smelling of fabric softener instead of campfire. He went back to the yurt and wrote a note which he stapled to one of the paper bags containing the beer that was Kylo’s favorite, threatening anyone (Brandon) who drank it that they would wish they were never born. Then he spent the next five minutes hiding the other three six packs he had bought around the yurt in new spots, hoping to throw Brandon off.

He hadn’t managed to get any new clothes. The time it would have taken to find something suitable wasn’t worth jeopardizing his tight schedule. Hux decided that he could go early on Monday and get some new things, get them all washed of the chemical stink from the store, and be back in time for dinner. If Kylo was even still visiting at that point. Well, it was better to plan ahead. He could use a few more casual outfits anyway.

Hux nearly had a panic attack when he found out that the troupe had eaten all the hamburger patties, cheese, and buns that he had been planning for dinner. “I left you guys lunch!” he said, angrily wrenching open the mini fridge to reveal a large bowl of salad. Abbie and Rebecca, the only two who hadn’t made themselves scarce when Hux had gone scarlet, looked at him apologetically.

“It just didn’t seem like enough,” Abbie ventured, twirling the ends of her hair in nervous fingers.

“So you _knew_ about the salad?” he asked, giving them his best disappointed look. “There was French bread and fruit too. And cookies. Seriously? You guys couldn’t go a few more hours without red meat and grease?” His mind whirled, trying to plan. Salad did not make a good meal for sitting around a campfire in the dark. They needed normal camp food. They had enough provisions to last until Wednesday, when Hux was planning on doing the shopping, but it was all on a very delicate schedule. There was only so much space in the fridge and the coolers, and Hux had it planned down to the last mouthful how much they would need each week. This random act of savagery threw off his entire, well-ordered meal plan.

“Hux,” Rebecca said, clearly sensing his panic and jumping in to rescue him. “I’ll run to town and get dinner.” Hux heaved in a breath and held it, looking at her. “I’ll leave now. I’ll call ahead to wherever we decide. We’ll only be eating a few minutes later than usual, and we won’t have to cook, so that will be nice,” she said soothingly, just barely touching his arm, grounding him.

Abbie rocked from foot to foot, worried that they had upset Hux, but also excited for the prospect of a fast food dinner. Hux finally nodded, letting the breath he’d been holding out slowly, grateful for the offer.

“What do you want me to get?” Rebecca asked. “Pizza? Fried chicken?”

“Fried chicken!” Abbie crowed, practically jumping up and down. “With biscuits! And mac and cheese!”

“Yes, get fried chicken,” Hux said, trying to calm down. It was just food. No big deal. Everyone would get fed. It would be fine. It was just food. _Just food._ “Here,” he said, dragging out his wallet and flipping through it. “Get enough chicken for all of us, plus any guests coming. Get several large sides and at least two dozen biscuits-”

“Three! I could eat twelve on my own,” Abbie announced.

“Get three dozen biscuits and enough butter and honey. Text me when you get back, and I’ll send the boys to come help you carry everything.” Hux pushed several large bills into her hands along with the rental SUV keys. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a prob, boss,” Rebecca smiled. “And don’t worry. I’ll get enough for everyone, including visitors.” She winked at him and headed off toward the parking lot.

 

* * *

 

Hux wasn’t lurking. Lounging by a tree that may or may not have an extra camping chair folded up and hidden behind it was not the same as lurking. Just because he looked up every time there was so much as the hint of a sound coming from the direction of the trail leading to a certain person’s camp did not make it lurking. He was just being careful. Cautious.

It was also caution (not obsessiveness, thank you very much) that led Hux to distract Brandon with a pack of his absolute favorite beer right before Hux weaseled a pack of the black label out from one of his hiding places and set it by the picnic table. And again, it was just common sense to drape a tablecloth over it and snarl when anyone tried to peek underneath.

Kylo walking into the camp like a wraith always managed to startle him, no matter how intently he anticipated it. He was always so much larger in person than Hux remembered, his eyes so much more haunted.

Hux felt his palms start to sweat. Since when did his _palms_ sweat, for Christ’s sake? He tried to remember the plan.

It was simple enough. He just needed to drag his chair (still carefully hidden) over to where Kylo had chosen to sit, which happened to be the chair that Hux had put there for him. He was learning the knight’s preferences enough to predict where he would be the most comfortable- close enough to see and to listen if he chose, but far enough back to not be noticed or drawn into conversation against his will. Hux felt a little guilty, as he fully intended to try and strike up a conversation, hopefully one that went a bit more smoothly than the last, and without mention of anyone liking Phasma.

Just then, Rebecca’s text came through, so Hux found Kurt and Brandon -tipsy but capable of walking - and sent them to help carry the food back from the car. Then he took a deep breath to center himself and grabbed the hidden camping chair when no one was looking. Hux positioned the chair a few feet to Kylo’s left, knowing that the knight would be much more comfortable with him on his unscarred side, and waited.

Kylo was slumped down in the chair, hood low over his face. He didn’t seem to be asleep, but he did seem to be somewhere far away. After a few moments he shifted in his seat, but then went still again.

Hux went over the words in his head again and again: _Let me get you a beer. I think I’ll join you. This is a great local brand. I think the brewery gives tours. Have you ever been?... Let me get you a beer..._

“Sorry.”

Hux jumped. That was Kylo’s voice. Kylo was talking. To him? Hux glanced around. He was the only one close enough. The knight’s dark eyes were fixed on his, solemn, half hidden in the shadow of his hood.

“About what?” Hux managed. What was Kylo apologizing for? Thinking he liked Phasma? Or maybe he was trying to tell Hux to move, that he didn’t want company. Hux’s brain scrambled and tripped over itself.

“Well, you know, for, um-” Kylo stopped talking, his massive shoulders curling in on themselves. Hux really didn’t know. He didn’t want to guess and get it wrong.

_Let me get you a beer. I think I’ll join you. This is a great local brand…_

“Do you want a beer?” Hux asked. He winced. He’d meant to say that as a statement, not a question. He was on his feet before Kylo had a chance to answer, bee-lining it for the picnic table.

It was alright, he could still salvage this. But he hadn’t mentioned that he intended to drink one too.  That had been part of the plan, to make it seem more natural, to give himself permission.

Now, as he pulled two bottles out of the hidden pack, his hands shook. The bottle in his right hand he’d give to Kylo. The bottle in his left hand he’d drink himself. His left thumb rubbed at the smooth glass, almost as if trying to remove a smudge. He could do this. He was allowed. It was part of the plan. The calories were budgeted. It was safe. He could do this-

He set the bottle down before he dropped it altogether, his fingers still trembling as he fished a water bottle out of the cooler. He popped the cap off Kylo’s beer with a bottle opener and headed back to his seat quickly, before he lost his nerve altogether.

Kylo thanked him, but didn’t comment further. Hux _knew_ this would happen. Kylo wasn’t going to comment on the beer at all, and now Hux didn’t have the excuse of drinking one himself to bring it up. All he had was the water bottle that he couldn’t stop fidgeting with. He needed to find a new topic. Something they’d talked about yesterday. Something Kylo would have an opinion on…

“So, you get to kill Phasma tomorrow.” Hux groaned internally, but it was enough. It got the knight talking. Hux breathed an internal sigh of relief as Kylo willingly told him about his fighting routine. After a few moments, something shifted in their conversation. They moved away from awkwardness into… something else. Teasing. Playful. Was Kylo- was Kylo _smiling?_

Then he asked Hux about the incident in Hyde Park. Oh, _that_ was embarrassing. Kylo wasn’t going to get _that_ story any time soon if Hux could help it. He deflected by bragging about his dagger skills. At least one good thing had come out of that disaster.

Next to him, Kylo shifted. Normally, he always kept his face angled away from the person he was talking to, looking off to the right to protect his face. Hux suddenly found himself looking straight into Kylo’s eyes, the huge shoulders turned towards him. It was overwhelming to be the center of Kylo’s full attention. Hux continued to smile at him dreamily, unable to help himself as his gaze traveled all over Kylo’s face, drinking him in.

“Prove it,” Kylo said, something flashing in his eyes, the corner of his mouth still pulled up in a small smile.

What had Hux just been bragging about? Oh, right. Dagger skills. “Alright,” he answered, climbing to his feet to get the weapons.

He walked past the picnic table where Rebecca and Phasma were setting out greasy containers of chicken. The troupe was swarming already, greedily pouncing on the food. Hux slowed down, glancing between the food and Kylo, worried that he might be hungry.

“Don’t worry about Ox over there,” Phasma said, suddenly looming over him, nodding at Kylo across the fire. “I’ll save him some chicken. Go do your thing.” Hux flushed, looking at Rebecca who winked at him without further comment. Well. Anything he said would just be taken wrong, so he continued past them like he’d meant to and went to the yurt for the daggers.

Thank god he didn’t drop them when he was showing off a few minutes later in front of Kylo. The knight seemed impressed, but then he took one of Hux’s blades and began flipping it effortlessly in spins and tosses that Hux didn’t think were physically possible, before handing the blade back. Hux tried not to gape. Kylo’s hands were… they were… _god,_ Hux needed those hands on him.

Like he always did when he was nervous - or turned on, apparently - Hux resorted to interrogation. “How many years have you been doing this?” Kylo sighed. Fuck. Hux tried not to grit his teeth in embarrassment.

Hux was surprised by Kylo’s answer though. Eleven years of performing work? He must be older than Hux had assumed. He tried throwing a few numbers out there, guessing low. Kylo was probably in his thirties, if he’d been at the faires that long. Maybe he started right after college. Maybe high school…

“Twenty six.”

Hux swallowed hard. So young. Several years younger than Hux, and Hux hadn’t been a professional actor for much more than five years. Maybe he had just been performing with Phasma during the school holidays. It might not have become full-time until later. Hux began to wonder just how much of Kylo’s time was spent at the faires. He stayed during the week but, then, so did they. Maybe his home was just too far of a drive and this was easier.

“So," Hux tried, "how often do you get to go home?”

Hux knew immediately that he’d messed up. Kylo went deadly still. His eyes went blank, like his circuitry had been cut. He stood, rising up impossibly tall and looking down at Hux as though some insurmountable distance had opened up between them.

“I need to… I’m going to go,” Kylo said, his deep voice hollow sounding. Then he was moving away, back down the path to his own campsite.

“You don’t have to-” Hux was already on his feet, making to go after him, when a large hand grabbed his slim bicep.

“Let him go,” Phasma said quietly. Hux looked around the campfire, the others all pretending not to be be paying rapt attention to what had just happened.

“But, I upset him, I said something stupid and-”

“No, you didn’t,” Phasma sighed, tugging him farther away from prying eyes and ears. They stood away from the ring of tents in the cool air far from the heat of the fire. The voices behind them started up again, indistinct.

“I asked him how often he gets to go home,” Hux admitted, staring over Phasma’s tall shoulder into the woods beyond.

“I heard.”

“I didn’t mean to… I…” Hux made an empty motion with his hands. “He was fifteen when he started performing.”

“Yes.”

“Like, just during school break, or-”

“Full-time. Year-round.”

“Oh,” Hux murmured.

“Yeah,” agreed Phasma. They stood in dejected silence for a few minutes.

“He doesn’t have a home to go back to, does he?” Hux finally managed.

Phasma shrugged. “Does his uncle’s old, one-person tent count?”

“He can’t… that can’t be what he’s living in!”

“Afraid so,” Phasma said. “He won’t let me buy him a new one. He pays me back for all the food I get for him. He even gives me money for laundry detergent. He tried to help pay my water and electricity bills at one point because I refused to let him give me money for doing his laundry for him. I mean, really! I have to do mine anyway, and he owns practically nothing-” She stopped when she saw the look on Hux’s face. “He’s okay, Hux,” she said, soothingly, patting his shoulder while he hyperventilated.

Why couldn’t he get it together? Kylo was fine, Phasma said so. She would know. She had known him for at least eleven years. She did his laundry. She would know if Kylo wasn’t alright, wouldn’t she? Even though he slept in a tiny, old tent. Even if he barely owned any clothes and gave all his hard-won earnings to his friend. Even if he had been left, wounded and homeless, to fend for himself at fifteen…

He realized that Phasma was gone, and Rebecca was walking over to him through the gloom. “Hey,” she said, no sound of pity or worry in her voice. Good, that was good. He was glad she couldn’t see his face. She held up his daggers. “The children were getting too interested in these, so I took them away,” she smirked. “Wanna go put them in the yurt were Nina can’t accidentally cut off anyone’s fingers?”

“Yeah, uh, yes. Good idea,” Hux agreed, rallying. They turned and started walking to the tent together, Rebecca casually holding his elbow. They both pretended it was normal and not her way of making sure that he didn’t topple over. Hux rather liked the warmth and pressure at his elbow. Nobody had touched him gently like this in quite a while. They laced him up in his corset, but beyond that and the random pat or slap on the back, no one had touched him for a long time.

 

* * *

 

Bronson pulled the chair out for Hux, waiting for him to get settled before he took his own seat, that one million dollar smile on display as he looked between Hux and their two fathers, all four of them dressed to impress and grinning wide enough to hurt.

Hux’s father waxed on about some business deal at the studio, while Bronson and his father nodded and added stories of their own. They talked of nothing but money until the server arrived with their drinks.

The server, a petite blonde woman in a crisp white blouse, smiled at Hux’s father as he ordered his usual dish, obviously recognizing him as Brendol Hux, movie star. Her smile fell somewhat as she took Bronson’s father’s order of veal and caviar. The warmth, along with a bit of interest played in her eyes as she turned to Bronson, his handsome face tipped up to her, an ever-present twinkle in his eye.

“I’ll have the lamb, medium, rosemary wine sauce on the side and a small arugula salad with goat cheese,” she nodded and turned to Hux. Before he could say anything, Bronson continued, smooth as silk. “He’ll have a small cup of minestrone soup, mostly broth, and a spinach and strawberry salad with no cheese and light vinaigrette on the side.” The waitress gathered their menus and went to put their order in with the kitchen.

Hux’s father seemed to notice he was there for the first time that night. “You a vegetarian now?”

“No, I-”

“He likes to eat light on rehearsal weekends, don’t you, Armitage?” Bronson asked, cutting in seamlessly. Hux nodded. The two older men at the table didn’t need to know that _every_ weekend was a rehearsal weekend for Hux. “Don’t you, _Armitage?”_ Bronson repeated when he still hadn’t answered out loud, his hand closing over Hux’s thigh under the table, squeezing.

“Yes,” he said, not loosing a beat. “That’s right. It helps me keep focused on the work.” He attempted a smile, but his father had already lost interest, turning to Bronson’s sunken-looking father to discuss investments. That was the true reason they had invited their fathers out to dinner, after all. The announcement of their relationship was just a pretext.

The food arrived and the conversation droned on amidst the sounds of clinking cutlery and chewing. Hux pushed the spinach around on his plate, dutifully taking a bite whenever Bronson looked at him too long. It would have been easier with dressing, but Bronson had frowned slightly when he’d reached for it, so he hadn’t tried again.

Throughout dinner, Bronson’s warm hand remained on his thigh, promising and heavy. His thumb moved slightly now and then, teasing. Hux chewed dutifully, trying not to blush in front of their parents.

 

* * *

 

Hux woke up on Friday morning to an overcast sky and a drop in the temperature. He shivered with the other skinny actors as they ran through their morning practice before heading to the faire. They walked faster than normal to keep their body heat up, and during lunch time, Hux made mugs of hot tea for everyone and told them all to put leggings on under their costumes.

Hux, Rebecca, and Nina wandered past the stage where Kylo and Phasma were supposed to be performing that afternoon but, once again, the repulsive faire worker announced a change of acts. Hux shot Rebecca a worried glance, and she wriggled her phone out of a hidden fold in her robe and started texting. After a few minutes, she wordlessly handed the phone to him.

Becca: _Is everything ok? Just stopped by the stage and no epic fight to the death_

Phas: _srry. meant to tell u. taking the weekend off. very last min_

Becca: _Is Kylo staying with u?_

Phas: _no, that stubborn ass_

Becca: _But ur both okay, right?_

Phas: _i think so. we both just needed a break. next week, back to normal_

Hux handed the phone back to Rebecca. She eyed him as they walked around the faire, but he didn’t comment. It was his fault Kylo wasn’t feeling like performing. He had been pushy with his questions, never allowing the conversation to happen naturally. Hux sighed and wished that he could run his hands through his hair or over his face without destroying his wig and makeup. Even Nina was giving him odd looks by the time they made it back to camp for the night.

 

* * *

 

He knew Kylo wouldn’t show up. He waited for him anyway.

 

* * *

 

It started raining early Saturday morning before the sun was even up. If it had been a light rain, Hux may have still forced the Elves to work in full costume, but it was pouring, and the robes and wigs were expensive. Plus, the overall attendance numbers at the faire were down.

He didn’t let them entirely off the hook, however, though he did try and make it somewhat fun. They left camp at the usual hour, dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, all of them carrying umbrellas. He handed them each a couple of twenty dollar bills and told them to have fun, but not to come back to camp until their usual time for lunch.

After the cold and somewhat dazed-looking group had dispersed, Rebecca elbowed Hux through his layers. “I sometimes don’t know if you are really a nice person who is also just a crazy control freak, or a psychopathic sadist.”

Hux just shrugged. Mystery was good.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And just what are you going to do with your money?”

“Me? The money is for you guys. I was just going to wander around.”

“Nope. If I have to spend three bloody hours poking around stalls and getting told improbable stories from vendors, you do too.”

Hux groaned. “Alright, fine. It’s the wine weekend, right? Let’s see who braved the weather and what they’re selling.”

By the time they made it back to the yurt, Hux had a couple of bottles of white wine to try and Rebecca had several bars of homemade soap and what looked like a pillowcase stuffed full of homemade potpourri. The others wandered in to take advantage of Hux’s heating and show each other what they bought. There was an alarming amount of incense, more soap, a few clay mugs, a dragon staff, and one rather drunk Brandon.

They were all cold and grumpy. Carissa had discovered a leak in her tent and Abbie claimed that her air mattress kept going flat. Hux checked the weather report and saw that it was going to be even colder on Sunday. He sighed.

“Alright,” he announced. “Everyone pack a bag. We’re staying the night at a hotel.” The resulting cheer was deafening and then Hux was left by himself to make reservations while the rest of them scrambled to get some clothes and toiletries together. Reservations made, Hux did a quick search for a store that sold good quality air mattresses and rain shields for tents. They could swing by on the way back to camp on Sunday and pick them up so Carissa and Abbie would be comfortable.

Rebecca walked back into the yurt with her backpack on one shoulder and a huge smile on her face. “This is going to be great! TV and a real bed and a real bathroom and-”

“What about Kylo?” Hux asked. He wanted to be more subtle than that, but there was no time. They would be getting interrupted by the rest of them any moment.

“Oh,” she said, stopping and looking worried. “God, you’re right. I hadn’t even thought about him. I’m such a jerk.” She was grabbing out her phone as she babbled, texting Phasma. A few messages later and she was scowling. “She says we are sweet to offer, but not to ask him. Apparently, he’ll say no, but if we force him, he’ll insist on paying and he doesn’t have the money to spare, even though he’ll act like he does. Plus, she thinks he’ll get spooked, and never come over to the campsite again.”

“But-” Hux started.

“I hate to say this, Hux, but Phas is right. She knows him better than us. We should listen to her.”

“But,” Hux said again, “it’s freezing! And it’s a hurricane or something! What if his tent floods? Where will he go?”

Rebecca was texting again. They both waited for the answer.

“Phas says to stop freaking out,” Rebecca replied. “She says that Kylo can always use her tent, or, and I’m quoting her here, ‘get over himself and call me to come pick his drowned ass up out of the mud.’ Also, she says he’s been through worse weather and been fine.” She shrugged.

“But-” Hux tried one last time.

“We should listen to Phasma,” Rebecca said sternly. They stared at each other for several tense moments before Hux deflated. He didn’t like the thought of leaving Kylo on his own in the rain and the cold while they all stayed at a hotel.

“Alright,” he agreed at last. “Does Phas have my number?”

“Um…”

“Give her my number.”

“Okay. Why?”

“In case, I don’t know, in case Kylo gets hit by lightning and needs help. Just give it to her, alright?”

“Fine,” she said, sending his contact info along with a text that was likely unflattering to his sense of dignity. “But how is that going to help when you are in town with us?”

“I’m not going.”

“What!? Hux, come on-”

“No, it makes sense. Someone has to be here to look after all our stuff. And I practically have a house,” he said, gesturing around at the yurt.

“If this is just because we can’t ask Kylo-”

“No, someone has to stay. It’s fine.”

“Uh-huh. And if Kylo actually had gone with us, what then, Mister?”

Hux snapped his mouth shut. Damn. Caught.

“I thought so,” she smirked. “Now give me the keys.” Hux handed them over as the happy shouts got louder outside the tent. Hux got them heading for the parking lot a minute later, most of them not even noticing that Hux hadn’t followed them out.

At the exit, Rebecca turned. “You’re a good person, Hux. Just… just be careful, alright? Kylo’s obviously very damaged.”

“I would never hurt him,” Hux said, meaning it.

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” Rebecca said carefully. Hux fell silent. She reached a hand out to his bony shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Text me the confirmation number. We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

Hux nodded. He watched her go, running off down the trail so she could unlock the SUV and let the rest of them in before they were completely soaked. He sighed, turning back to the empty yurt. Lifting his phone to his ear, he called the hotel and cancelled two of the rooms.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t receive any emergency texts during the night, and by the morning, the sound of the rain had turned from menacing to comforting. He lay in bed longer than usual, staring up at the white ceiling. Checking the weather report on his phone, he saw that the rain was supposed to stop that night. A little bit later, Rebecca texted to say that everything had gone well and that they were going to head back in the evening after they did some shopping at the mall. She said not to worry about dinner for them, that they would get junk food while they were out.

Hux spent the day going over paperwork and talking to Harry on the phone about progress at the theater. He called his dad, but it just went to voicemail, so he hung up without leaving a message.

For almost an hour, he allowed himself to miss Bronson. It didn’t help that Hux was still tagged in all of Bronson's old photos on Facebook. Hux knew he should have blocked him, that he shouldn’t give in to the temptation to look at those old photos. But he had deleted all of the ones he’d had on his phone, so now this was the only way for him to go back and see the two of them together. It was like Bronson knew. Or maybe that he didn’t care enough to delete them.

By the time the others were due back, Hux had gotten himself into a bad mood. He really didn’t want to hear about their fun time at the hotel. He didn’t want to see all the stuff they bought and have to be nice about it. So he went to go take a shower.

His beard had become a fine stubble from not shaving since the morning before, and that was as good an excuse as any to stay in the locker room and avoid going back to camp and facing everyone. He made some space for himself at the mirror, surprised that so many other campers had the same idea as him. Must be the weather.

He was just swiping the blade over his right cheek when he saw him in the mirror. Kylo was standing just inside the doorway, looking around at how many people were crammed in the small space. He was shirtless, shoeless, dripping with rain, a plastic grocery bag looped around two huge fingers.

Hux forgot how to breathe.

Kylo caught his eyes in the mirror for a split second, and then he made his way to one of the shower stalls and vanished from view. Hux closed his mouth. He hadn’t realized it had fallen open.

Very slowly, very carefully, he continued to shave. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to slice himself wide open. When he was done, he rinsed the blade carefully and wiped the remaining smudges of shaving cream off his face with a washcloth. He dabbed moisturizer around his eyes and then smoothed it onto the rest of his skin. He combed his hair into place.

Kylo didn’t have a towel with him.

 _Chest,_ his brain insisted. _Shoulders._

He was probably intending to walk all the way back to his tent like that.

 _Skin,_ his mind hummed.

Hux rummaged around in his tote, finding the extra towel he had stuffed in the depths. He folded it carefully at the top of the bag. A few of his products were left on the shelf in front of the mirror. Good. It would need to look like he was just leaving.

 _Hair. Mouth. Throat. Yes!_ His brain screamed as he caught sight of Kylo in the mirror again, steam rising off his body from the shower.

Just as Hux had guessed, Kylo didn’t stop to do anything in the mirror. He was making straight for the door. Hux put the last products in his bag like he was just now finishing up and stepped in front of Kylo. Once again, the sheer size of him in person was overwhelming.

“You’re shivering,” Hux murmured, feeling half in a dream. He struggled to maintain eye contact. The urge to look down - _god, that chest_ \- was testing his discipline and self control. Before he could follow the water droplets running down Kylo’s throat and over his collarbones with either his gaze or his tongue, Hux pulled out the towel and started drying him.

Seriously- Kylo was going to get sick going from warm to cold like that, not to mention it would make him feel just plain miserable.

“I don’t need you to dry me,” Kylo rumbled, pulling the fabric out of his hands. Something about the way Kylo took the towel and wrapped up in it, rubbing it against his face and inhaling deeply, made Hux’s heart stop. This man deserved nice things. He deserved to be warm and comfortable. Hux wanted to give that to him.

“Come and hang out with me for a bit,” Hux blurted, cutting off something Kylo was trying to say.

“What?” Kylo asked. Great. Just great, Hux.

He stumbled over himself to explain, to reason, to justify. He was not doing a great job.

“Did Phasma put you up to this?” Kylo asked. “Because you don’t need to babysit me for her. I’m fine.”

Wait, _what?_ “How often do you think I talk to your stage partner? I swear, she hasn’t put me up to anything. I don’t think I’ve said more than a few words to her, ever.”

“But, then why…”

“Just-” Hux said, stubborn and needing this man to follow him right now and get warm and dry in a place that was not an old one-person tent.  “Come and have a drink with me.” He turned away from Kylo and sent a fast text to Rebecca.

 _Everyone out of the yurt until further notice_.

The reply came a moment later. All it contained was a smiley face.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter is in the end notes.
> 
> A huge thank you to [Halan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Target44/pseuds/Harlanhardway) for being my very patient Beta on this chapter. Very. Patient.

It was a cold walk back to the campground. Kylo followed behind and Hux couldn’t help but think of the knight trailing after him, barefoot in the rain.

They got closer and Hux saw camping lights on in several of the actor’s tents, the diffused light seeping through the fabric walls. He thought he could make out laughing voices and hoped they weren’t too annoyed at having to leave the yurt. Squinting in the darkness he could just see the outline of the new rain tarp over Carissa’s tent.

When they got to the yurt, both shivering from the cold rain, the heater was switched on and all of the camping lanterns were on their dim setting, throwing warm light and dark shadows around the interior. Hux made a mental note to buy Rebecca something nice.

Even with the towel draped around his shoulders, Kylo looked like he had just stepped out of a medieval etching. The shadows chiseled his body and face into sharp relief; his height and mass striking against the softly illuminated backdrop of the yurt’s walls. Again, that feeling of _knowing_ him washed over Hux- the strange familiarity that he attributed to his love affair with art and a few sketches in particular. He wanted to grab his tablet and pull up the photos of his art collection, to hold the images next to the knight and compare proportions. He thought that Kylo’s stance would perfectly mirror the sketch of the fighter, and that the way his face was turned into the shadows on the right, with the left in full lamplight, made him look like he had modeled for Hux’s favorite piece.

Hux snapped back to reality when he noticed Kylo shifting uncomfortably and, indicating a chair for the knight, he turned to go through the large maroon suitcase that he was forced to use as a linen closet. He moved sheets and towels out of the way until his hands lit upon a soft, dense blanket. Pulling it out, he turned to face Kylo again, taking a steadying breath.

The knight was gazing around the tent, staring in particular at the dummies with their outlandish wardrobe and the shelf of heads with their wigs. Hux tried to see the space from Kylo’s point of view, his stomach twisting at the thought that Kylo might disapprove. The yurt was a jumbled mess. Everything was crammed into makeshift spaces. Bits of costumes and makeup were everywhere, not to mention all the items for everyday living- the overflowing towel hamper and the unpacked bags of groceries stacked in the designated kitchen area. Hux winced. He’d been rearranging items, trying to make more room in the mini fridge, and hadn’t put everything back in its proper place yet. He hoped to god that the hamper didn’t smell.

Hux swallowed. “This is the best place to keep everything and get dressed,” he offered, hoping the excuse for the disarray came across less pathetic than it sounded to his own ears.

Hux held out the soft blanket, wanting to wrap it around the man in front of him, to make sure he was warm and safe. Kylo looked oddly young in that moment, his head tilted back, still turned slightly to the right, keeping the scars in shadow. His wet hair hung around his angular face, heavy and dark. The tip of one ear showed on the left where the wet mane parted.

He held his breath as Kylo pulled the damp towel from around his body, his left pectoral muscle jumping as he held it out to Hux and took the dry blanket instead. His nipples were pebbled and there were goosebumps trailing his skin. A few stray drops from his hair trailed over his collarbone and down the grove of his chest.

Hux spun around to the hamper, tossing the towel in with the myriad of others, and mentally went over what clothes he had on hand.  He turned back just as Kylo shrouded himself in the blanket, settling it over his massive shoulders. Those arms. That chest. Nothing of his would fit him, not even his baggiest sweater.

“I don’t have any shirts that will fit you,” he explained out loud, not wanting Kylo to think he was keeping him half-naked and shivering with cold on purpose.

Kylo didn’t respond with words, but he gave a small smile, undetectable to anyone who wasn’t watching his face like a hawk. His dark eyes met Hux’s for a moment, their expression intense but unclear. Then his gaze dropped away and he was wrapping himself up in the blanket like he hadn’t been warm in ages, his face turning into the fabric to feel the softness. He seemed to be nuzzling in, allowing his body to stake a claim on the canvas chair, melting into it with clear exhaustion.

“Are you comfortable?” Hux asked. Kylo just gave him a nod, his eyelids looking heavy. “Good. I’ll go see what there is to drink.”

Oh, lord. What did he have to drink? Not much. He began looking through the food bins and mentally making a list of what he could offer. He knew he still had the beer Kylo liked, as Brandon had finally gotten the fear of god put in him when Hux caught him trying to make off with a couple of bottles the day before. Hux had since made it up to him - he had felt bad for making him cry - by giving him some cash for the faire pub. Still, the actors consumed a lot of alcohol, and Hux didn’t have a lot left to offer.

He should have planned ahead better. He never thought he’d have Kylo in the yurt - shirtless, his brain helpfully reminded him - but still, he ought to have been prepared. Just as he located a bottle of rum, grateful at the generous amount of liquid that sloshed inside as he set it on the tiny table, he heard Kylo’s soft groan behind him.

Hux froze. That sound was... It was… A shiver ran down Hux’s spine. He took a steadying breath and slowly looked over his shoulder.

Kylo was practically curled up in the camping chair, its high back supporting his neck where he was slumped down into it. His large feet were hooked into the cross supports near the bottom of the chair legs, and his knees fell to either side, relaxed and open. Kylo had turned his face even deeper into the folds of the blanket that bunched up around his shoulders, his eyes shut as he gulped in the scent of the fabric at his cheek, sighing in silent contentment.

Hux moved as quietly as possible, setting things out on the table while keeping one eye on the knight. Kylo seemed to be struggling not to fall asleep, and Hux wondered again how long it had been since the man had been truly comfortable. Sitting in a rickety chair in a chilly yurt with only a blanket for warmth and wet hair was not at all what Hux thought of as comfort. But Kylo seemed content enough and Hux didn’t want to disturb him. The man obviously needed rest, and if he fell asleep, Hux would make sure he slept for as long as possible.

Kylo was fighting it suddenly, trying to straighten up and shake himself out of his haze, even while tightening his hold on the blanket, his knuckles turning white as he fought sleep. Hux let out a slow sigh, knowing he should break the silence.

“I have beer. I can make you hot chocolate and add rum or Irish cream. I have wine. Sorry, that’s it for right now.”

“Just rum,” Kylo answered after a moment’s deliberation. Hux felt a small pang of disappointment. He had wanted to make Kylo something hot, and it had probably been awhile since Kylo had anything as frivolous as hot chocolate.

Hux pulled down a tumbler for Kylo and added rum, the smell of the amber liquid making a warm spot in his chest. Hux liked this brand. It was smooth and rich. He remembered the taste from years ago when he used to drink it himself. Now he bought it to have on hand for the actors.

He hesitated a moment, his eyes landing on the bottle of wine. It might make Kylo feel self conscious to drink alone. Hux had noticed that he usually only took a sip when no one was watching, and if he felt like Hux was just sitting there, staring at him and waiting for him to finish his rum, he would feel out of place.

And then he would leave.

Hux walked the glass over to Kylo, handing it off to him and trying not to get distracted by those large, rough hands dwarfing the tumbler. Walking back to the makeshift kitchen, Hux grabbed a wine glass, calculations instantly flashing through his head. Because he had been in a bad mood earlier, he hadn’t eaten all of his allotted calories. He had enough for a glass of wine.

It had been awhile since he’d indulged. He used to love a glass of wine in the evenings after a long day of classes. It was his go-to drink when eating out with friends or the occasional date as well- just enough to help him let go, not enough to get him drunk.

His fingers drifted over the bottle for a minute. No one grabbed it out of his hands. No one told him he wasn’t allowed to have it. It was just him in his own mind, squirming and backing away from the indulgence just as much as he was reaching greedily out for it.

Ice. He would add ice. It would fill up the glass and water down the wine, making him feel like he was drinking more while appeasing the demon that wanted him whittled down to his bones. He watched the pale liquid glint as he poured, the smell of the wine light and sharp.

He walked back over to Kylo, arranging a chair so that he could see the knight without encroaching too much on his personal space, and took a sip. The flavor burst in his mouth, crisp and cold, making his whole body hum in contentment. He set the glass down, knowing he should savor it.

Glancing Kylo’s way, he could make out the curve of one large shoulder peeking out from the blanket like a boulder breaking the surface of the ocean. He grabbed his phone and texted Kurt.

_Bring me your largest clean sweatshirt._

Hux watched Kylo drink. The knight’s lips pressed plush and soft to the glass and his throat flashed as he swallowed. He may have gotten a little lost in the sight, because a moment later Kurt was hollering from outside and barging into their space, fabric clutched in his hands and an expression that Hux would categorize as much too eager on his face.

Shooting Kurt a warning look, they both turned their gaze on Kylo as the man stood up, blanket dropping away to reveal his body, his head turned slightly to the right in his usual stance. Hux heard Kurt take in an appreciative breath as Kylo pulled the hoodie on over his head, his swordsman’s body rippling as he slid his arms into the sleeves. Hux had just enough presence of mind to snap his mouth shut before Kylo’s head popped out the top of the shirt and he tugged the fabric into place. His shoulders strained against the soft cotton, but otherwise the garment seemed to fit.

Kylo offered a small smile. For a moment, all the air in the tent evaporated. Hux had no idea how much time had passed when Kurt was suddenly moving for the exit, _flirting_ with Kylo as he went. He offered Hux a helpless shrug as he slipped by, as if to say, _Yeah, but honestly, how could I not?_

Hux muttered low threats of bodily dismemberment, and Kurt _winked_ at him. The redhead groaned internally. He must be losing his touch.

He sat back down in his chair, taking a sip of wine to distract himself from those shoulders, _Jesus,_ and then started up a conversation with the knight, commenting about the absence of his Amazonian partner. They talked for awhile and it got easier and easier until it felt light and teasing, like it had when Hux had shown him the Elven daggers. Hux found himself prattling on about his apartment. He talked about having one of the walls restored in order to preserve the original brickwork, and how he had the fireplace converted back to the original wood-burning hob instead of the electric monstrosity the previous flat owners had installed. He waxed poetic about the hardwood floors and leaded windowpanes until he almost felt like they were there, sitting in his home in London.

Kylo would look right in the flat, Hux decided. With his size and coloring, he would be beautiful sitting in one of the refurbished club chairs or standing at the marble kitchen island. He would look gorgeous spread out on Hux’s bed, jewel-toned sheets as a backdrop to his pale body.

Hux stopped talking, worried that his thoughts might somehow spill out in the middle of his story of how he ended up choosing to buy the theater and how much he missed stage work. He looked over at Kylo. The dark eyes were closed and there was the hint of a smile on his full lips. Hux asked if he was asleep, and his eyes cracked open, the smile deepening. The knight denied it and then a moment later he was up out of the chair, his long body stretching as the abandoned blanket curled up in the vacated seat.

He looked at Hux then, his face registering uncertainty. He gave an involuntary shiver, blinking heavily once, before his hands went to the hem of the borrowed sweatshirt and Hux realized that he was about to return it. Hux reached out on instinct to still his hand, not wanting him to reject the warmth and comfort he had been offered. It was bad enough that Kylo was thinking of leaving. Hux couldn’t stand for him to freeze. He was already going to be walking back to that meager tent he slept in barefoot. Hux really had nothing to offer him for footwear. Kylo’s feet were larger than any of the actors, and socks would get wet and be just as bad as bare feet.

Hux tried not grab on to Kylo any tighter. He wanted to keep him there, in the relative warmth of the yurt, where Kylo was so obviously comfortable. His fingers were just barely brushing the back of Kylo’s hand, and he forced himself not to tug him back into the chair. He felt a raised ridge of scar tissue on the otherwise smooth flesh under his fingertips. Hux wanted to examine it. He wanted to ask about it, to ask about all the scars.

Instead, he heard himself telling Kylo to return the shirt the next day. At least then he would have to come back. It would give them another chance to talk. Hux wouldn’t have monopolized the conversation if he had known Kylo would leave so soon. It had just been so comfortable with him there and the taste of wine in his mouth had brought back a feeling of home, of the good times between leaving his father’s home and meeting Bronson. Kylo’s presence just served to intensify a feeling of completeness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. The knight wasn’t judging him. He obviously didn’t care what Hux was or wasn’t supposed to be doing. He was just content to be warm and out of the rain. It was soothing.

Kylo moved away from his fingers and Hux’s hand dropped, feeling empty and cold all of a sudden. The knight agreed to return the next day and then they were murmuring goodbyes and Hux was watching Kylo’s broad back as he retreated down the path. At least it had stopped raining.

Hux wandered back to where they had just been sitting. He picked up the glass of wine, watered down now but still inviting. He should toss out the rest. Kylo was gone and there was no reason to finish it. He looked at Kylo’s empty glass and sighed. Then his eyes trailed over to the blanket still sitting bunched up in the chair. It would be weird to wrap up in that blanket, wouldn’t it? Even though the tent was still kind of chilly and it looked so inviting. It may even have retained some of Kylo’s body heat. It would be like wrapping up in a blanket warm from the drier, only it would smell like Kylo…

Hux snatched it off the chair and quickly tossed it in the hamper with the towels. He tried not to notice how warm it was in his hands. He glanced around the rest of the tent reproachfully. The place was a mess. He had somehow managed to forget that while Kylo was there, but it hit him again how disorderly it was. He would need to move doing the laundry up to the following day as well, judging by how full the hamper was.

Hux dumped the rest of the wine and then started cleaning. If he worked quickly, he’d be done in a few hours.

 

* * *

 

Bronson had been in a foul mood ever since coming back from looking at properties with Hux. The actor was determined to move forward with his dream of owning a small theater, and when he had first brought up the idea several months ago, Bronson had been very supportive. In fact, it had be his enthusiastic championing of the idea that convinced Hux to move forward with their relationship and make it official. Now, though, just a week after the dinner with their fathers, Bronson’s mood had soured.

“I don’t see why you want a property that’s so run down,” Bronson said, continuing their conversation from the car as he hung up his jacket on one of the pegs by Hux’s door. “I mean, it’s bad enough that you invested in _this_ place,” he snarked, his handsome face scowling at the half-finished walls and scuffed floorboards.

“It’ll be gorgeous once it’s done, Bron,” Hux said, tired of the argument by now. Bronson had done nothing but sneer at his apartment since he had first brought him there. He insisted on spending most of their time at his modern condo. While Hux appreciated the clean open space of Bronson’s place, it didn’t have any character. It was faceless and cold. Hux’s place would be warm once it was done. There would be art and beautiful furniture and-

“If you say so,” Bronson said, toneless. He had that look on his face that Hux so despised, blank and dismissive. These moods of his were made even worse by the high contrast of his charming personality when they were out in public. Hux missed his smiles and the way he would so effortlessly sling a large arm around him while they were schmoozing at parties.

“You want something to drink?” Hux asked, trying to get his plan back on track. They had slept together before, of course, but only ever at Bronson’s place, and Hux had wanted to wine-and-dine him here, in his private space. He thought it would be special. The remodeling wasn’t done, but it was at an in between stage, and Hux had scrubbed the entire place from top to bottom in preparation for having his boyfriend over. He had dinner all ready in the fridge. He just needed to pop it in the oven for an hour before adding the finishing touches, so he thought that would give them just enough time to fool around. If he could get Bronson in the right mood, that is.

“What do you have?” Bronson asked. Hux listed off the options. He’d gone to several places to get all of Bronson’s favorites. He even made some garnishes for mixed drinks, carving lemon peel into long, skinny curls and threading blue cheese cubes and olives on fancy toothpicks. He had everything that they could possibly want. His mouth ticked up in a smile as he finished his long list of beverages, waiting with baited breath for Bronson’s choice so he could present him with a beautiful drink.

“No sherry?” Bronson asked, his brow furrowing.

Hux looked at him in shock. Bronson had never expressed in interest in sherry before. True, he had never said that he _didn’t_ like it. The subject had never come up. He probably should have thought of that, though. It was something traditional households often had on hand. He knew his own father always kept a bottle in the drinks cabinet for guests.

“Um, no,” Hux admitted, fidgeting with his hem until Bronson gave his fingers a pointed look and he stopped. “But I do have Moscato, which might hit the spot if you want something sweet? Or Amaretto? I can make you a mixed drink or there’s wine-”

“No,” Bronson said, heaving in a deep sigh. “Water’s fine, I guess.”

Hux went to get him the water, adding ice and one of the lemon peel garnishes he had made earlier. He also got one of the orange peel flowers he had cut out with a tiny cookie-cutter in case they had tropical drinks, and added that to the rim of the tumbler as he handed it over.

“Thanks,” Bronson said, fishing out the garnishes and dropping them on the table. He rattled the ice in the glass before setting it down. Hux couldn’t help but stare at the bright fruit peels, slowly spreading small drops of water over the surface of his antique table.

He thought for a moment about the first time he’d seen that table at a London flea-market. He had chatted with the seller for nearly an hour, the woman ignoring her other customers in favor of telling Hux about the table’s history. Hux had loved the piece immediately. Now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe it wasn’t as good of a find as he’d once thought. He hesitated, stilling his impulse to wipe up the water before it left a warped spot in the wood.

Bronson seemed to notice his hesitation. His face broke into that lazily charming smile Hux had been initially drawn to, the expression that had once caused bubbles of happiness in his stomach.

“Take your clothes off,” Bronson said, his eyes trailing up and down Hux’s body. Hux complied, slipping his pants off and folding them. Bronson gave a grunt of approval, reaching out from where he sat in a dining room chair to stroke Hux’s thigh. “I love your legs,” he purred, still dragging his eyes all over Hux, one large hand kneading his pale flesh just below his boxer briefs.

Feeling a rush of confidence from Bronson’s praise and attention, Hux smiled coyly and unbuttoned his shirt seductively, looking at Bronson with a turned head, demure and boyish. Bronson kept smiling as more of Hux’s skin came into view, giving little grunts of approval, his other hand coming up so he could trail a finger down the redhead’s chest.

Hux undid the last of the buttons, letting the fabric creep down his slim shoulders so that his entire front was exposed. The larger man hummed, lifting both hands to Hux’s slim collarbones and letting his fingertips trail down his body. Hux shivered and moaned at the treatment, hard and straining already, eager for touch.

Bronson continued to trail down the slim torso, his fingers brushing Hux’s nipples and ribs. The warm hands stopped abruptly over Hux’s stomach, and he glanced down only to see Bronson’s passionate look turn cold. He was staring intently at Hux’s midsection and Hux suddenly felt wrong, like he needed to get away, needed to hide. Bronson pinched Hux’s belly, then his sides, letting out a disapproving grunt. Hux felt his cheeks blaze with embarrassment, his mind scrambling over thoughts like daggers, sharp and cutting. Bronson had never expressed any disapproval with Hux’s body before. Of course, he had never praised Hux for his waistline either, only his legs and ass. Hux should have realized.

Without looking at Hux, and abandoning any more sweet touches, Bronson abruptly stood up and bent Hux face-first over the table, forcing him to rest on his forearms. Because Hux always prepped ahead of time for him, the larger man didn’t even have to touch him. He was able to just slide home without much effort.

While Hux gripped the table’s edge, waiting for Bronson to finish, he couldn’t take his eyes off the yellow and orange fruit peels, wilting slowly on the stained wood.

 

* * *

 

The morning light found the yurt spotless and Hux groaning in bed, wishing his brain would let him sleep in just an extra half an hour. Instead, he hauled his protesting body out from beneath the covers, and started the process of organizing the actors for the day.

By the time evening had finally come, Hux had clean piles of folded laundry in the yurt, a cooler full of sliced cheese for sandwiches, and a tote filled with french bread. He paced, waiting for Rebecca’s text. Any moment now.

He jumped when the text finally came, spinning around uselessly in a circle for a moment, trying to remember what the plan had been. Oh yes, sandwiches. He could do this. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the yurt.

 

* * *

  

Hux waited for Kylo to return from tossing his paper plate in the fire, thinking of what topics he could bring up next. He still felt that he owed Kylo from the night before, when he had completely monopolized the conversation. They could talk about routines. Maybe Hux could think up some good gossip, though he never paid very good attention when Rebecca talked about the other performers.

Movies? Books? Maybe music. Kylo had to listen to _something,_ even if it was a few years old by now. Maybe Hux could go grab his iPod and-

“God, it looks like someone pulled the skin _right off.”_

Everyone froze, eyes going wide in the firelight. A tight, anxious feeling was clawing it’s way up Hux’s throat. He could sense all of Kylo’s hard-won comfort with the group drain away, the knight’s shoulders drawing up, his loose muscles contracting with the need to get away and hide.

“Someone _did.”_ Kylo’s voice was dark and low, a growl coming from the shadow of his hood, his face hidden once more. Hux’s stomach turned over, bitter and angry.

Brandon frantically tried to get his friend’s attention again, his nervous eyes glancing over at Hux, shivering at the death glare Hux was sending back. If Brandon was smart, he’d find a way to get that guy out of their camp before Hux made it over to them. First though, he had to make sure Kylo was alright.

Hux wanted to pull his hair out. The evening had been going so well. Hux had gotten to feed Kylo and bring him beer, the knight relaxing and putting up with his attempts at flirting graciously. He’d gotten the sweatshirt back from him, and still managed to keep him there, which he had more than a little worried about. The conversation had actually moved forward, both of them bantering lightly as Kylo ate toasted cheese and Hux worked through his bag of grapes, not even bothering to count as they talked.

That warmth and ease had been snuffed out in a matter of seconds. Hux took one look at Kylo’s stiff back and hurriedly set his things down on the log they had been perching on, wondering if he should get up and go to him or not. Hux stroked the fabric of the returned sweatshirt anxiously, as if it were a pet that could soothe his nerves. The large body swung toward him again, what little he could make out of Kylo’s face not reassuring him.

“Did Phasma tell all of you not to mention my scars?” Kylo asked, his dark eyes flicking over to Hux. He swallowed. The look on Kylo’s face was absolutely gutted. “I should go.”

Hux lept to his feet, following after the retreating figure moving silently into the shadows. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rebecca’s hand go to her mouth, her eyes widening as she watched them leave. Brandon looked like he was about to throw up and was already urging his drunk friend to his feet. He had better not be _anywhere_ in sight when Hux got back…

He was able to convince Kylo to let him walk to his campsite with him. Hux recognized the same symptoms he had witnessed when Kylo had lept off the stage, going after the man that had grabbed a hold of their assistant. He remembered Phasma giving him some medication and he was determined to make sure Kylo got it now. With the way the man’s hands were shaking, Hux worried that he wouldn’t be able to open the pill bottle.

The campsite came into view and Hux’s heart sank. He knew, logically, that Kylo was living in a small tent, but to actually _see_ it was another matter entirely. The dim moonlight glinted off the structure’s broken spine, the tent looking crushed into the dirt next to the cold fire pit.

Kylo fell to his knees in front of it, trying to paw open the tent flap, his fingers shaking too badly to grasp the zipper. Hux stepped forward and did it for him without a word, getting out of his way when he dove inside to retrieve a backpack. Hux looked over the knight’s shoulder into the tent. There were some dark humps off to the side that were probably bags containing Kylo’s belongings. There weren’t many of them. Hux glanced around the site, finding a larger tent that likely belonged to Phasma, a couple of camping chairs, and… nothing else. There weren’t any travel-trailers stocked with the rest of the man’s belongings. No large plastic bins with extra supplies. Nothing.

Kylo collapsed onto his back after swallowing the small pill, his thick arm over his eyes. Hux felt frantic with worry. Kylo was breathing, slow and steady, purposefully regulating his air intake. Hux knew he didn’t need to help him the way he’d seen Phasma doing- touching his chest to remind him to breath slow. Hux felt useless.

“I need to be alone,” Kylo grated out, his voice strangled. Hux continued panicking. He really did _not_ want to leave Kylo lying out on the cold ground, alone and having an anxiety attack in the dark.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Hux whispered, looking around frantically as if he could conjure Phasma out of the air to come and help him. He wanted to get Kylo somewhere warm and safe. The yurt, preferably. But Kylo’s sad tent would be better than the pine needle encrusted dirt.

Kylo asked him to leave again, sounding close to tears. Hux closed his eyes tight. He reached out instinctively, barely touching the knight’s elbow, wishing he could do something - anything - to help. He told Kylo that he was coming to check on him the following day. Hux had the horrible feeling that he would find Kylo still lying out by the fire pit, cold and lifeless. He shuddered.

Hux got about twenty feet from the campsite before he stopped and doubled back up the trail, only to stop again, rubbing his face. He pulled out his phone and found Phasma’s contact info, typing out a text.

_Kylo is having a panic attack._

Hux fidgeted in place waiting for a reply. He could hear broken sounds coming from the small campsite. A feeling like being plunged into ice water ran through his veins when he realized it was the sound of Kylo sobbing. His phone lit up.

_Did he get his pills? They are back at the campsite._

Hux blew out a shuddering breath and responded.

_Yes, but he made me leave. He’s lying outside his tent alone._

Hux walked nearly all the way back to the clearing. He could hear Kylo calming down, his gulping breaths turning to sighs. Still, he wasn’t moving back to his tent.

_Ok, good. That’s good. If he got his meds he will be ok._

Hux stared at Phasma’s text, chewing his lip.

_But he’s outside on the ground. Shouldn’t I go help him back into his tent?_

Phasma’s text came back a moment later interrupting Hux’s pacing.

_He’ll be fine, Hux. Don’t go back. He’ll know you didn’t leave and he’ll be embarrassed._

A second text came through before Hux could respond to the first one.

_Could you check on him tomorrow though? And let me know how he is? I can come back early if I need to, but he won’t like it, so…_

_Okay,_ Hux sent back, feeling about two inches tall. He checked one more time, peeking out from the path between the trees. Kylo still lay on his back, his arm over his face. His breath was calmer, nearly silent. Hux had to fight the impulse to go over and shake him.

Reluctantly, he crept back to his own campsite, heart hammering.  The fire was banked down and abandoned, everyone having scattered already. Rebecca was packing things away in bins and cleaning up, but otherwise the site was deserted.

Hux retrieved his water bottle from the log, snatching up the sweatshirt Kylo had returned, clutching it tightly in his hand. Rebecca drifted over to him after a moment, tying her long hair up in a messy bun as she joined him in staring at the garment in his fist.

“How is he?” she asked.

Hux sighed, transferring everything to the crook of one elbow so he could run a hand through his disheveled hair. He must have been fussing with it while he paced the trail. “Not good,” Hux huffed, feeling both exhausted and jittery at the same time. “He didn’t want me to stay, but-” Hux gestured uselessly, trying to express himself without the use of words. Rebecca seemed to understand, nodding in sympathy.

They stood for another moment in silence. Rebecca looked like she wanted to say something but had no idea how to go about it. He looked at her tiredly and nodded, encouraging her to speak. She sighed.

“It’s just,” she lifted her hands up, “he has _so many_ issues, Hux.” She laid a hand on his shoulder when he started to bristle. “No, listen. I like him. Phasma loves him like a little brother. That alone means he’s got to be great, because she seems like a pretty good judge of character. But seriously, you need to think about this.”

Hux snorted, brushing off her hand, straightening up and trying to pull on his ‘leader’ face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing is happening between us. At _all._ We’ve only spoken a few times and-”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Bullshit, Hux,” Rebecca repeated, squeezing his bony shoulder tighter. “I see the way you two look at each other-”

“He doesn’t look at me-”

“Yes he does, idiot,” Rebecca said, rolling her eyes. “And what are you gonna do now? Just go into the yurt and have a good night’s sleep? Or are you going to obsessively check on him because you won’t be able to think of anything else otherwise?”

Hux scowled at her, both grateful and resentful that she knew him so well. Of course he was going to check on Kylo all night. He had already decided that if he wasn’t in his tent by midnight, then Hux would take action. He wasn’t sure exactly _what_ yet. He could wake him up, of course, that was the simplest. He could also bring over an extra sleeping bag, to at least cover him up and make sure he was warm… Maybe he could get Rey to bring over one of the jousting horses and they could carry him back to the yurt and then Hux could take care of him…

He stopped his outlandish train of thought when Rebecca cleared her throat. “Exactly,” she said.

Hux deflated. He stared at his friend, the only one out of the actors who knew about Bronson, who had lived through Hux’s breakup. If anyone knew what he was like when he was infatuated, it was her. His mouth hung open a little and she rubbed his back soothingly.

“I have it so bad,” he said tonelessly. He chuckled mirthlessly at himself, shaking his head. “God, he’s all I think about anymore.” He rubbed at his face, something he did a lot when he was stressed, his slim hands wiping down over his eyes and cheeks.

“We’re leaving in two months, Hux.”

“I know.” They looked at each other for a moment. Rebecca rubbed her own eyes, mimicking Hux’s stress, worried for her friend.

“I think…” she said slowly, “that if you are seriously thinking of having… something… with Kylo, you need to know what you are getting yourself into.” Hux didn’t even bother protesting, just nodded his head, defeated. God, this was the _opposite_ of what it had been like falling for Bronson. Instead of giddily plunging headfirst into a relationship, Hux was doggedly planning out even talking to the man, without even knowing if Kylo liked him back. If he _could_ like him back. “Call Phasma,” Rebecca said. “She can at least help you understand what’s up with him, before you get too invested. Or well, _more_ invested.” She winked it him, hiding the worry in her eyes with a smirk and a playful punch to his shoulder.

Hux nodded, hating to admit it, but knowing she was right. He didn’t want to walk in blind, make things worse for Kylo. She smiled at him, moving to turn away.

“Becca?” he asked. She looked back at him, eyebrows raised. “This isn’t… He isn’t Bronson. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, Hux. I know. He might actually be a real human being.” Hux snorted, and Rebecca turned with a wave of her hand over her shoulder, heading for her tent.

Hux fiddled with his phone in the dark.

 

* * *

 

“Do I need to come get him?” Phasma asked, picking up on the second ring.

“No,” Hux said, quickly. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve been checking on him for an hour. He’s still asleep by the fire pit.”

“He’s breathing?”

“Yes.” Hux’s blood ran cold. “Is that something that could happen? Could he just stop breathing? I’m going to go get him and bring him back to the yurt-”

“Hux!” Phasma shouted at him. “I just meant breathing normally, not hyperventilating. He’s not going to just stop breathing while he’s asleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Hux managed. “Okay. I’ll, uh, check on him after we get off the phone, just to make sure.”

He could hear Phasma sigh. “What do you need?” she asked in a patient tone.

“I like him,” he said, before he could lose his nerve. “Kylo, I mean.”

“No shit,” Phasma said, unimpressed.

“And I have absolutely no idea what to do about it.” There was a long pause then, neither of them speaking as Hux’s words hung in the silence.

“So you want me to, what, tell him?”

“No!” Hux said. “That’s not what I meant. Okay, look. Becca is worried that one of us will get hurt, or something, I think. She said I should talk to you.” He paced the yurt, secluded there for the phone call, looking around with wild eyes. He spotted the sweatshirt Kylo had borrowed sitting on a makeup table, and he snatched it up, holding it to his chest while he paced, just to have something to hold on to. “I really like him,” Hux said lamely.

Phasma let out a long breath. “Han Solo,” she said finally. Hux was confused. Was that a name? “If you want to date Kylo- and that’s the _only_ reason I assume you’re calling me and _not_ because you want a hookup…” she paused and Hux rushed to assure her it wasn’t, he didn’t, “...then you need to know about Han Solo. Google it. But you gotta swear not to tell anyone else what you find, or to talk to Kylo about it until he’s ready. Alright?”

“Of course,” Hux agreed. “Han…?”

“Han Solo. H-a-n S-o-l-o. And listen, if it’s too much to handle and you think that you’ll eventually walk away, it would be better for everyone if you just ignored him and didn’t get his hopes up.”

“Okay, I-”

“Oh and Hux?”

“Yes?”

“It goes without saying that I will spread your still-twitching body parts around the woods if you so much as make him frown, right?”

“R-right-”

“Let me know how he is in the morning. Night, Hux.” Before he could respond, he heard her hanging up in his ear. Grabbing his tablet, he pulled up Google and typed in ‘Han Solo’, tossing it on the bed before it was finished loading.

He pulled on a jacket and grabbed a spare sleeping bag. If Kylo was still outside and refused to move into the tent, at least he could make him more comfortable. When he reached the other campsite, he was startled to find it empty. Kylo must have gotten up and made it into his tent. Hux shifted from foot to foot, wondering if he should check, but finally convinced himself that Kylo was probably fine. Or, well, functioning anyway. Functioning enough to get to his tent.

He headed down the trail, only to swing around at the last second and scurry back to Kylo’s tent. He approached as quietly as he could, listening for all he was worth. Kylo wasn’t snoring, but he could hear him breathing softly, slow and deep.

Hux walked slowly back to the yurt, listening to the owls hoot deep in the woods and the late-season frogs peeping near the pond off to his right. Once he was back in the dim light of his tent, he made himself some herbal tea for the warmth, and then sat down to read the search results.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a description of a sexual act in the flashback, that, while it isn't exactly non-con, it is uncomfortable and emotionally unhealthy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me this long!
> 
> I commissioned [Flurgburgelr](http://flurgburgler.tumblr.com/) to do some art for this series, and it is truly breathtaking. Please please take a look at it [here](https://mothdustmouth.tumblr.com/post/164988676335/gorgeous-art-commissioned-from-flurgburgler-for).
> 
> Trigger warning: This is the chapter with the assault and, while it is not graphic, it may be disturbing for some readers.

Kylo wasn’t mentioned by name, but Hux knew it was him halfway through the first news article. The “unnamed minor” who had suffered “facial disfigurement” and torture at the hands of the thieves was obviously Kylo.

Hux’s mug of tea went cold while he read every entry he could find, moving forward through the case, until the trail ended with Kylo leaving juvenile detention after being declared a victim rather than an accomplice. There was nothing more under the Han Solo search about his unnamed son.

There were, however, many more items under the search for the criminal mastermind, Mr. Snoke. Apparently, the man had never been captured and was believed to have gone underground somewhere in Europe. Reading over the descriptions of Snoke’s other heists and victims, Hux was amazed that Kylo had made it out from their encounter alive. He shuddered as he set his tablet down, not able to read any more about the sadistic psychopath.

Hux couldn’t help picturing Kylo’s face as it must have been when he was pulled from his father’s truck: young, no scar yet marring his cheek... terrified. Hux wrapped himself tightly in his blankets, half-imagined shadows churning behind the fabric walls of the yurt. It was close to dawn when he finally fell asleep.

* * *

Hux took extra long in the shower the next morning, despite the stab of anxiety in his stomach that was urging him to go check on Kylo. He was worn out from the whiplash of emotions of the last few days, and he let the hot water sluice over his head, a throbbing behind his temples making him squint down at the drain.

Combing his hair in the mirror, he tried to pull himself together. The face that looked back at him was pale, with the tell-tale dark circles smudged under his eyes, marring his clear skin. His looks were a fine balance, Hux had come to understand. If he didn’t sleep enough, didn’t drink enough water, didn’t move enough, didn’t wash and moisturize like a zealot, it showed instantly in his skin. A few nights of restlessness had him looking like a corpse.

He got his hair in order and turned away. He didn’t have time for berating himself. He needed to check on Kylo. He had already slept in longer than he had intended, though he probably only got about three hours total, and he wanted to get to the other camp as swiftly as possible.

When he got back to the yurt to drop off the half-dozen bottles of product he needed every morning to get ready, Rebecca silently handed him the box of donuts he’d texted her that he wanted, suddenly thinking, at four in the morning, that he ought to feed Kylo and deciding that junk food might be better received than something a little more nutritional. Hux smiled at her, his mouth tight with worry and exhaustion, as he added several unopened packages of trail mix and other non-perishable items to the bag with the donuts. He filled it, picked it up, and scowled at how light it was. Kylo was huge. He must burn through calories like a furnace, especially while training and fighting. Hux shook out another bag and started adding more food. He could always make a grocery run later for the troupe. After all, he had a nice rental vehicle with air conditioning and four-wheel-drive. What did Kylo have? He barely had a tent. More of a tarp held up by sticks. Hux scowled angrily as he shoved some dried pineapple into the shopping bag.

Rebecca watched him, a strange look on her face hovering somewhere between sympathy and pity. Hux didn’t like it. He looped the plastic handles around his arm and headed for Kylo’s campsite.

Daylight didn’t improve the look of the two tents, nor did it take away any of the sparseness of the set-up. The tent belonging to Kylo was battered and old. It looked older than either Hux or Kylo, probably a hand-down or a thrift store find. The camping chairs had also seen better days, one of them held together with little more than duct tape, both wedged deep into the dirt under the pressure of the large bodies that sat in them day in and day out.

Hux looked around, trying to see it as a home, as somewhere welcoming and comforting after a long day of working at the faire. He couldn’t. It just looked like two broken-down tents in the middle of the woods.

It was quiet, and Hux wondered if Kylo was still asleep. He noticed that the cloth flap to Kylo’s tent was hanging limply open. Setting his bags down by one of the camping chairs, Hux carefully approached the tent, listening for any sign of the knight. When he was close enough to see the empty sleeping bag and rumpled gray blanket through the flap, his suspicions were confirmed. Kylo was already gone.

He went back to the duct-taped chair and sat down gingerly, waiting for Kylo’s return. He stared at the fire pit, realizing that the fire was simply banked-down, not smothered. There was a battered and blackened kettle set off to the side, and he imagined Kylo setting it over the fire to boil, silent and intent.

Hux tried not to fidget. He tried not to think of buying Kylo a new tent. He tried not to dwell on the articles he had read the night before, the ones that explained why Kylo was so damaged, why he hid away from humanity, homeless and alone except for two friends that still left him every week to return to their lives in the city.

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Hux tried not to squirm. He resisted the urge to get up and pace. Kylo could be anywhere. He could be out for a run or over in one of the fields, practicing. He could be back any moment or sometime in the afternoon. But Hux had promised to come check on him, and he would give it a while before he charged off in search of him. Well, maybe ten more minutes. He bounced his leg up and down. Five more minutes and he’d go look.

Just as Hux was wondering whether to leave the bags of food there, and risk animals coming to investigate, or to take the liberty of setting them inside Phasma’s tent for safekeeping, Kylo strode out of the trees.  His long hair trailed over the threadbare towel that hung around his neck, his thick mane pushed back, the trails his fingers had made still parting it near the scalp. His eyes looked tired but clear, catching Hux’s as he attempted to greet him, relief flooding through his body at seeing Kylo in one piece.

Kylo made them both coffee, gripping and lifting the old kettle in the well-practiced movement Hux had envisioned. Hux poked at the donut box he had set on a lopsided stump, shifting it until the edges lined up with the chainsaw marks still visible in the surface of the wood.

The knight came back over once the flames were dancing under the kettle, sitting down in the camping chair, which creaked ominously, and finished toweling off his damp hair. Hux repressed the urge to snatch the towel from him and show him the proper way to care for his dense, wavy hair, which he was only damaging by rubbing at it with the coarse cloth. Instead, he bit his lip and stared at the flames under the kettle.

“So, Plutt,” Hux said after a moment of silence, during which he tried not to think of what Kylo’s thick hair must feel like. The kettle wasn’t even steaming yet. Hux wanted to get this man an entire kitchen’s worth of camping appliances.

Kylo grunted at the name. “He been bothering you?” he asked, leaning forward and managing to look as menacing as possible for a man with a towel draped over his knee while poking at a fire with a stick.

“Not me personally,” Hux said, trying to remember all the details of the, frankly, rambling story Rebecca had told him last week. He tried not to feel flattered when Kylo huffed in what seemed like relief, before settling back into the chair. “He’s been following the girls around, especially Becca.” Hux launched into the story then, trying to make it humorous rather than upsetting or creepy. Honestly, when Rebecca had first told him that the rotund man kept showing up wherever she was, seemingly trying to catch her alone, he had been furious. Rebecca had made her disinterest clear, but the man wasn’t taking no for an answer. Becca and the other girls had figured out that all they had to do to escape him was to walk fast.

That was the part of the story he told Kylo. He left out the bit where he’d driven to Plutt’s boss’ home, forty minutes out of town in the suburbs, and threatened legal action against the faire management, while sitting on a chintz-print settee in the parlor, sipping ice water with a slice of lemon. He hadn’t seen Plutt since.

Kylo handed him a cup of coffee and then turned to peruse the donut box with obvious interest. Hux preened a bit inside for having made the right call about what kind of breakfast food the knight would most enjoy. He watched Kylo’s obvious enjoyment of the food, though he turned away self consciously while he chewed, so Hux dropped his eyes to give him privacy, fighting the urge to watch him take every bite.

Poking at the fire again, Kylo mentioned his assistant, and Hux remembered the small man with the cute boyish face that Kylo had rescued from the men harassing him and Phasma, only to give himself a raging panic attack. The knight’s face went soft and fond as he talked about the other man. Hux found his stomach doing something funny at that look. His eyes narrowed against his will, and a mean-spirited feeling ran through him, sharp and unwelcome.

“Mitaka,” he said, and he could hear the pettiness in his own voice. He took a sip of coffee to give himself a moment to regroup. It was so much better than Rebecca’s coffee that Hux was sidetracked from his jealousy for a brief, welcome moment. Kylo, oblivious to Hux’s inner turmoil, told him in all seriousness that Mitaka was basically their slave, and Hux managed to inhale some coffee at the images that swarmed his head at that turn of phrase.

His eyes slid over to long form sprawled next to him, the camping chair creaking and groaning as Kylo shifted, and thought some very detailed thoughts about what it would be like to be this man’s personal slave.

Kylo offered to share the donuts with him, but Hux gave his usual excuses. Wrapped up in hazy thoughts of silk scarves being tied around his wrists by those strong hands, he heard himself murmur, “I’d rather watch you eat,” meaning every syllable in a very heartfelt way.

He loved watching Kylo eat. He loved feeding him. Being someone who had to watch every calorie he ate, Hux got real pleasure from feeding others. He could live vicariously through them while providing them comfort and sustenance, making him feel good despite his own hunger. But there was something extra special about feeding Kylo. The man was so big, so muscled, feeding him was like throwing a log on a roaring bonfire. No matter how much fuel was added, it would be burned swiftly and efficiently. It was immensely satisfying.

Hux came out of his stupor with a shock. Kylo was staring at him, angry and cold, his dark eyes flashing with some deep loathing that Hux couldn’t place.

“Why?” Kylo asked, his voice careful and low. Dangerous.

Oh god, what had he said? Something about liking to watch Kylo eat. Fuck. this is why he should never ever allow his attention to wander while interacting with others. It always got him into trouble.

“I just like feeding people,” he stammered. He indicated the other bags under the chair, Kylo’s gaze flicking down to the shopping bags and then back to Hux, narrowing suspiciously. Hux panicked. He didn’t exactly lie, but he embellished the truth considerably, implying that he was giving food away to other people, that it was all extra, that it didn’t mean anything, that he was some fricking grocery Robin Hood, redistributing caloric wealth. Anything, anything to get Kylo to stop looking at him like that.

And then, after a few touch-and-go moments, the huge man was nodding and thanking him for the gift, apologizing for getting the wrong idea and eating another donut like nothing had happened.

Hux watched Kylo polish off the box in near silence as they both sipped their coffee. The atmosphere was less tense, but Hux was on edge, worried. He glanced at Kylo while the knight was staring up at a hawk that had landed in a tree across from where they were sitting. He was watching the bird intently, with interest, and it changed his whole face. For a moment, Hux saw him as the boy he must have been. Then the hawk flew away over the trees, and the years descended on Kylo’s features once again, blocking out the gleam of wonder that had been there.

Hux swallowed. There was a lump in his throat suddenly and he felt inexplicably sad. He thought about what Becca had said, what Phasma had said.

Kylo had so many issues. Hux had to be all in on this venture or he had to forget all about it. But he didn’t know this man. He felt like he did, maybe, on some deeper level. Soul recognizing soul and all that poetic drivel. But what did he really know about him? He was a performer in a two-bit sword act at a Renaissance festival, homeless, and suffering from PTSD and likely a host of other issues that he was getting little to no treatment for. He had a hair-trigger anxiety response and he was physically dangerous.

Why was Hux so set on pursuing something with this man? Kylo hadn’t shown any real interest in him. It had been Hux’s pushing that had led to the few encounters they’d had. What was he doing? Was this actually the Bronson situation all over again- Hux, besotted, unable to see the truth when it was staring him in the face?

There was no indication that Kylo cared about him in any particular way. No hint of anything deeper or warmer from his side of this… relationship. A barely-there friendship built entirely by Hux.

The redhead sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, blocking out the enticing vision sitting next to him. He recalled his therapist’s words, the ones that had finally gotten Hux to wise-up to the truth of Bronson.

_“You deserve to be taken care of as well as you take care of others. Armitage, no, listen to me,” the kind man had insisted. “This is not something you can shrug off. You have a tendency to give and give until there is nothing left. Do you want to be an empty shell, merely existing? Don’t you want the energy to put into your theater and your friends? Why are you giving it all to this man who takes it, squanders it, and gives nothing back? Why are you letting yourself feel this empty?”_

Hux looked at Kylo, one last time, full of longing. One last indulgence, taking in the weight and heft of him, the sadness, the old pain and stunning beauty. Then he thanked him for the coffee and got up, walking towards the trail that lead to the other camps. He did not turn around, and Kylo didn’t call him back.

* * *

Hux quickly found out that his instinct to do this in a public place had been the right one. Bronson’s pretty eyes had gone squinty with barely contained rage, his nostrils flaring as he breathed. His eyes dropped to the nearly empty plate in front of Hux, a few drips of cream sauce the only remnants of his expensive and decadent final meal as an engaged man.

It had hurt to consume that much rich food after so long of living on water and salad, but this was a symbolic meal more than anything else, and all the pieces had to fit. Hux had put up with Bronson’s growing complaints through the meal, starting with how Hux looked - “so unkempt, your hair is all over the place, and that sweater, for fuck’s sake, Armitage, this is one of the classiest restaurants in London,” to what Hux had ordered, “You can’t be serious, that dish has over a thousand calories.”

Hux had wanted to order dessert, scanning over the menu for the most fattening thing he could find, but he had taken enough abuse for one night, for one relationship, and he was done.

“We’re over,” Hux said simply, right in the middle of some snide remark about how their server looked classier in his uniform than Hux did in his ‘date outfit’ of a jumper and jeans. Bronson had just looked at him, obviously not understanding. Hux set his engagement ring, a simple band of yellow gold, that wasn’t his style and had never suited him anyway, right in front of Bronson’s half-finished filet mignon.

“You,” Bronson had said, looking up from the band to Hux’s carefully neutral face, “are breaking up with me?” Hux simply nodded, and that’s when the other side of Bronson had tried to make an appearance, the mean, monstrous side, the part of Bronson that wanted Hux starved down to nothing, mentally, emotionally, physically, so that Bronson could swallow him up like one of his bloody steaks. _“You_ are breaking up with _me?”_

In the end, Hux had to call Rebecca while locked in the bathroom. Bronson refused to leave, and Hux knew that if he tried to go first, Bronson would follow him out and try and get him alone. He wasn’t sure what Bronson would do, but he didn’t want to find out. Since the blinders had finally come off as to what the man truly was, Hux had come to accept that once they were married, there would be nothing to keep back the barely restrained violence he saw in Bronson’s eyes when he looked at him. There would be nothing keeping Hux from becoming a sad statistic in the Hollywood rags: Son of Famous Actor Found Dead in London Flat.

He would like to do something with his life while he had the chance, thank-you-very-much, and when Becca arrived with reinforcements, he’d marched out of the bathroom and through the restaurant like a king with his entourage. He didn’t spare a single glance for the angry man staring daggers at him from the bar.

* * *

It was rough, those few days, between walking away from Kylo’s sad little campsite and making it to Friday and a renewal of purpose and energy performing at the faire. He hadn’t invited Kylo over, but he hadn’t told anyone else not to. Unsurprisingly, without being badgered to do so, the knight never made an appearance. Hux took it as another sign that he had made the right call. If Kylo had shown any interest, any hint of wanting to be around Hux or seek him out of his own free will, then things might have been different. But he didn’t, and Hux was trying to take it for the proof of disinterest that it was.

A return to the costumes and the buzzing drama of getting the whole troupe ready was a welcome relief on Friday morning, as tired as Hux was from lack of sleep. The whole yurt smelled like cleaning products and everything was as spotless as he could make it, seeing as they were in the middle of the woods. He glared when Carissa started to complain about the chemical smell, and the topic of conversation quickly changed.

He spent some extra time helping Brandon get ready, as the man had been avoiding him since the incident with Kylo around the fire, and Hux wanted to try and mend the breach between them. If Brandon was still spending time with that idiot friend of his, Hux didn’t know about it. He hoped that he had kicked that lout to the curb, but he wasn’t about to forbid his troupe from hanging out, or hooking up, with anyone they wanted, so long as it didn’t interfere with their work. It went without question, however, that Brandon’s little friend was not welcome back to the actor’s camp.

Once they were all decked out in their Elf garb and had run through the vocal and mental warm-ups, Hux kept them together for the first hour of the faire as they milled around in their synced gate. He felt the need to be with them all for a while, to build morale and get them back into the frame of their characters after the long week of lazing around as themselves.

It had the added benefit of lessening his guilt when he took off, just after lunch, to catch Kylo and Phasma’s show. While he may have decided not to pursue Kylo, he didn’t want to just drop him and Phasma as acquaintances. Plus, he really did want to see Kylo kill Phasma. Call him petty. Call him bloodthirsty. It was just an itch that he needed scratched.

He gaped at Kylo’s final thrust, his sword seeming to go right through his opponent as she jackknifed and her scream turned into a gurgling death groan. Phasma lay on the stage, dead, and Kylo stood over her, breathing hard, chest heaving under the armor, his face hidden by the helmet, every line of him reading as predator.

Hux joined in the enthusiastic applause when Phasma lept to her feet and they both took a bow, Mitaka coming out dutifully with upturned cap to collect donations. Phasma caught his eye from the stage and motioned Hux to follow them back. Feeling oddly nervous, Hux slipped through the crowd, nimbly avoiding a woman who tried to touch his wig in passing, and made it over to Phasma in one piece.

It was quiet and shady behind the stage, the forest growing up close to this section of the faire, tree branches entwining over head and casting a green veil over the performers below. Hux complemented Phasma on the act, still feeling a thrum of excitement in his blood over the final battle, amazed at how real it looked even without blood. He resolutely did _not_ think about Kylo watching Han Solo take a knife to the heart.

He tried to focus on Phasma and not Kylo, who was taking off his helmet and shaking out his sweat-damp hair. He wasn’t supposed to be leering. He was supposed to be keeping his thoughts on friendly interaction only. God, this was hard.

Phasma laughed at him then, drawing him out of his revery as Kylo tied his hair back off his neck, and stated that they were going for a drink. Just then, Mitaka came tripping back around to the corner of the stage, cap full of dollar bills, and Hux couldn’t help but look between the small man and Kylo, hunting for any clue as to something more between them. Even though it was none of his business. He should be happy for Kylo if he had a relationship. That would be good. No need to be jealous. They were just acquaintances anyway.

Then Mitaka was coming up to Phasma, showing her the haul, beaning up at her like she had hung the moon, and Hux couldn’t help snorting at himself. He was an idiot. His eyes went to Kylo automatically, his mirth fading as he realized, again, just how alone the man was. It made his heart hurt. But it wasn’t his problem. Kylo obviously didn’t want to be Hux’s problem, either. So Hux needed to just… quit. Stop. Distract himself.

“Isn’t Mitaka coming?” he asked, getting his mind away from dangerous territory. He could afford to be generous to the tiny man now, without fear of doing or saying something he’d regret.

After several confused looks shared between the giants, they ended up, Mitaka-less, at a nearby pub, and a mead was set down in front of him. He took a few careful sips to be polite, storing away the caloric information in his daily tally.

He laughed and joked around with them for a bit, Phasma teasing him about the tightness of his corset and Kylo peering at him darkly through his fall of hair, one large ear peeping out on the left where his hair was pulled back. Hux did not find that ridiculous ear attractive. He didn’t.

After making an excuse to get out of drinking any more mead, Hux said goodbye to Phasma and Kylo and wandered off to find his troupe. They day suddenly felt a little brighter, and his footsteps were lighter.

* * *

That night, Phasma joined them but Kylo did not. Rebecca was delighted, and they huddled together exchanging gossip. Hux wondered if he should give Becca the heads-up about Mitaka, not certain if her feelings for Phasma were entirely platonic, but he also didn’t want to stir anything up if there was nothing there. She seemed happy enough with the friendship where it was, and she was still checking out people at the faire, so he supposed he didn’t need to worry. He had to stop himself from biting his manicured nails.

He went to bed earlier than usual, worn out from the long day. He slipped into a pair of silk pajamas, shamelessly glad he had brought the luxury with him as the fabric slid over his flesh like water. He draped a towel around his neck and applied a sheet mask to his face, sighing with pleasure as his skin drank up the moisture. Scrolling through his phone, he hit like on some of his friends’ posts, and then went through Instagram for dressing room ideas for the theater.

After fifteen minutes, he pulled the mask off and rubbed the rest of the treatment into his skin, taking care to get all the wrinkle-prone areas around his eyes and mouth. He lay down in bed with his phone, looking at the artist feeds he liked and wondering if he ought to drive into the city during the week and look for more original art to add to his collection. He drifted off to the murmur of voices around the campfire, the occasional laugh pulling him halfway to consciousness, before slipping back into dreams.

 

Saturday was much the same, though he didn’t see Phasma or Kylo, as the faire was flooded with guests taking advantage of the good weather, and the Elves proved to be very popular. He kept them together after lunch, and they claimed a small patch of grass backed by the woods that made for an excellent picture backdrop. It was nice to stand in the shade and have people come to them, not having to fight their way through the throngs on tired feet.

That night around the fire, it was just the actors, and Hux stayed with them until nearly midnight, discussing bathroom color ideas with Abbie, his iPad balanced between them, pictures of the theater pulled up. Kurt and Nina made popcorn the old fashioned way over the fire, and there was lots of happy shrieking as the kernels flew everywhere before they located the pan lid.

Hux smiled as he brushed his teeth later in the bathroom facility, Kurt and Brandon bickering over toothpaste brands to his left, as he pretended to ignore them. He liked this. This hustle and activity; the feeling of getting ready for something the next day, all of them in on it together. Sort of like a family, he guessed, if a the family members actually cared about one another. He spat into the sink and carefully rinsed his mouth and toothbrush before following the other two back to camp.

That night, it was harder to fall asleep. Hux found himself looking at the two framed drawings that reminded him so strongly of Kylo, and feeling sorry for himself. Then he felt guilty for feeling sorry for himself, when he had so much - friends, money, a home - and Kylo had next to nothing. Still, was it so much to ask that Kylo like him back, even a little?

Hux had tried this week, he really had. But what he had found himself wanting, over and over again, as his friends laughed and made dinner together, ate and drank and sang terrible songs, he had wished that Kylo had been there. Even if it was just for the company in general and not just Hux himself. He felt so much better with his little family of actors around, squabbling and having tiny crises all of their own, and he just wanted - so badly - to share some of that comfort with Kylo.

He would tell himself later he had no idea how it happened, but after about an hour of sleeplessly dwelling on what he couldn’t have, he ended up in bed with the sweatshirt Kylo had returned earlier that week. It smelled like campfire and rain and cheap shampoo and clean sweat. Hux buried his face into it and curled up, holding onto it like a lifeline.

* * *

Sunday was even busier than Saturday. They set up in the same spot, but by early afternoon they were swamped by drunk guests coming back from the wine and beer tasting booths farther down the lane. Hux and Rebecca decided to relocate to the other side of the faire, away from the main tasting area, and Hux let the rest of the troupe head back to camp. They had done a fantastic job staying professional, even when dealing with uncoordinated guests trying to sling their arms around them for pictures, pulling on their costumes and wigs and spilling the contents of plastic cups on their shoes.

Abbie was visibly holding back tears by the time Hux told them to head in early, and she hugged him out of gratitude. Hux waved them off, reminding Carissa that it was her turn to make sure they all ate on time when the faire closed down for the evening. She nodded, and then Hux and Rebecca slipped into the crowd and made their way toward the other side of the grounds.

Neither of them was very intent on staying in character, as tired and hot as they both were in their restrictive clothing, but they put in the minimum amount of effort required to stay Elven, while also gossiping and pointing out cute guests to one another.

Rebecca glanced over her shoulder for a moment, distracted by something, before turning back to Hux and nodded that they should try and go bowling, or putt putt golfing, while they were here in the US. She turned her head again, as though trying to find something in the crowd, and Hux linked his arm with hers to keep her from stumbling.

Hux had missed this. He had missed Becca and his other friends while he’d been with Bronson as, of course, he’d started driving a wedge between Hux and all of his friends as soon as he could. Rebecca had understood and had forgiven him. Some of his other friends had not. He gripped her arm a little tighter at the thought that he could have lost her too, lost their friendship to the sickness that was his relationship with Bronson.

He was still lost in thought, looking down at their feet as they both tried their best to avoid the random spots of mud on the path while not bumping into the other guests, when a hot, boozy whisper was breathed directly into his pointed ear.

“Well, helloooo,” the voice said, a man, standing much too close. “Aren’t you two a vision.” Hux pulled away, surprised that the guy had managed to get so close without him noticing. Usually he could spot the troublemakers before they got in his face, but his guard had been down.

Normally, when stuff like this happened, Hux stayed in character until the person gave up. It was amazing how effective channeling Thranduil could be with getting people to roll their eyes and leave him alone after a few minutes. This man’s eyes though… there was something not right. This was not the normal drunk guest thinking that it would be fun to flirt with the pretty Elf. There was something in that gaze. Something Hux recognized.

He froze instinctively, guests bumping into him as they passed. The guy smiled, his teeth straight and white, reminding him of another face…

“Hi,” the man breathed. “Aren’t you exquisite,” he said, hissing the last word, more of a threat than a compliment.

Hux suddenly felt cold, ice flowing through his veins, as he stared at the man, hypnotized like the prey of a snake. Vaguely he felt Rebecca tugging on his arm, trying to get him to walk away.

“The things I could do to you,” the man continued, leaning in closer, until Hux could hear the wetness of his mouth as he spoke into his ear. “I want to just eat you up, you intoxicating thing.” His voice was slow, measured. He didn’t sound drunk at all apart from the ludicrous things he was saying. His voice was sure, lyrical, oddly seductive- the way that deep water is seductive.

Rebecca tugged again, trying to move him. Hux got his body to finally respond, moving far less gracefully than he usually did, his limbs feeling both weak and wooden. He was having trouble swallowing. He knew this was not going to end well. He _knew_. And even though there were options, so many options, for him to avoid what was coming, he just couldn’t focus long enough to put any of it into action. His body trailed along after Rebecca, her grip firm and warm and protective, stumbling on suddenly coltish legs, as wave after wave of terror washed over him.  He had heard that tone of voice before. He knew what it meant. He would have sobbed if his throat wasn’t so tight.

The sad thing was, the Hux of ten minutes ago would have known exactly what to do. There were so many options. The most obvious of which was to go to the security booth and either wait for the guys to leave or to get an escort back to the campsite, where all the other actors were, and it would be relatively safe.

They could hang out in the crowd, not move from the busy lane. They could go to one of the shops, or one of the pubs, or really anywhere they had made friends over the weeks that they had been there. The faire folk were very protective of their own, and would look after them.

Instead, Hux lurched along on shaking legs beside Rebecca, poor sweet Rebecca, who had probably never seen a look in a man’s eyes like that, who didn’t know what it meant… what it promised.

He felt powerless, _powerless_ to do anything about it.

The man kept step with them. Belatedly, Hux noticed that there were two other men with him. He looked at each in turn, discounting them. They were minnows trailing after a shark.

The crowd thinned out a bit as Rebecca led them down the trail, still headed for the other side of the faire. Hux wanted to tell her not to, to stop, to stay with the crowds, but his voice didn’t work. The man reached out and mimed stroking Hux, though he didn’t touch him.

“You are both so beautiful,” the man said, raising his voice so that Becca could hear him, though his eyes remained fixed on Hux.

“Thank you,” Rebecca said coldly, “but I don’t think we’re interested in making new friends today.” It was what Hux had trained them to say. It was a non-personal, gentle brush off. Most people responded alright to it, taking it for the polite rejection that it was. But this was not a normal situation. Becca had no idea and Hux didn’t know how to tell her.

“That’s alright,” the man continued, smooth as silk, “we weren’t interested in making   _friends_ either.”

Rebecca looked at Hux, unsure, turning to him for guidance, but Hux couldn’t do anything but tremble.

“More beautiful than any girl I’ve ever seen,” the man said, his fingers at last making contact, softly flowing down Hux’s arm to his hand, though it felt to Hux like he was being raked with claws. The grasp was oddly cool around Hux’s hand, like the man had been holding a cold cup or water bottle moments before. Hux shuddered. “There you are,” the man said in his ear, and Hux snatched his hand back reflexively.

“Please keep your hands to yourself,” Hux recited, recalling the other phrase he’d taught the actors. The man considered him for a moment, something turning over in his eyes, falling like a ton of concrete. The cold hand shot out and grasped his arm. Breath that smelled heavier than wine, richer than beer, flowed over Hux’s face. It smelt of whiskey and of anger.

“Oh, can’t do that now, can I?” he asked, low and harsh in Hux’s face. “You don’t _want_ me to. You want my cock,” he clicked the the word out slowly, his tongue making a sharp sound in the back of his throat. “Don’t you, baby?” Hux was shaking in his grasp. “That’s right,” the man said smiling, “You’ll be begging by the end. I can always tell.”

Only then did Hux become aware of Rebecca screaming for help and of the two friends that had their hands on the man, pulling him back. He was still smiling at Hux, promising him.

Once the man was gone from Hux’s immediate path, he was able to regain his senses enough to plow forward with Rebecca, pure instinct taking him across the faire, heading for the campsite and the safety of their friends. He was so intent on his target that he barely noticed Rebecca’s warning that the guys were still trailing them, that they should go for the security station. Hux just needed to be safe, to be surrounded by people who would protect him; people that he wanted to protect in turn. There was a threat, and he needed to rally the troops and defend their territory. They would be safe once they were with the others. Being alone makes you vulnerable. He should know…

They caught up with them in the field. That had been a risky move on Hux’s part, but it was the fastest way. They had been anticipated, though, and now they were surrounded. The archery booth blocked them from the view of the lane, and the thick ring of trees took care of any other onlookers.

Adrenaline kicked in again, this time thankfully making him more fierce than weak - there was Becca to protect - and he kicked and bit for all he was worth, even after Becca had run for help, and he could feel his body being lifted, being dragged, the tight pressure around his ribs releasing as they attacked the corset and he bucked like a deer to shake them off. He felt a hand slither down his neck. If only he could shake them off. If only...

They were gone by the time Kylo found him. It could have been minutes or hours later, Hux wasn’t sure. He only knew that he was ashamed and in disarray. He didn’t want Kylo to see him like this. It made him peevish.

There was someone screaming. Oh, it was Rebecca. She was safe then. That was good.

Kylo was talking to him. He looked worried. Hux was fine though, he told him that, so Kylo’s face shouldn’t be looking so open, so vulnerable. It hurt Hux to look at it.

Kylo wanted him to move, so stand up, which was stupid, because then his corset would fall off. He wouldn’t be in costume then. It would be ridiculous. He would be ridiculous. _Was_ ridiculous.

A wave of cold hit him, followed by a wave of heat. There were roots and stones angling up painfully into his his legs and back.

People were coming. Strangers. They couldn’t see him like this. They couldn’t!

Kylo was murmuring, looking at his back, saying everything would be fine. Hux listened to him, his deep voice a soothing rumble.

Kylo talked to the strangers from security, helped Hux to talk to them too. Then he made sure the corset was back in order, tight, the way Hux liked it. The way he needed it. Holding him together. Keeping him from falling apart. Then he was being lifted to his feet by strong arms and helped all the way back to the campsite.

* * *

Hux knew they meant well. They really did. And they were scared and he needed to be strong for them. But he was so tired. So tired and he couldn’t sleep with them here, fussing over him.

He wanted to just cuddle up, cuddle up with Kylo’s sweatshirt, like he had last night. Hold onto it like a lifeline and drift away, knowing that this small tie to reality would bring him back safe, that he wouldn’t be lost out there, alone.

But Kylo had seen that Hux had the shirt in his bed, and now he was ashamed. Ashamed and tired and so hungry. Why was he so hungry? Oh, yes, because he had to watch his calories. No one would want him if he was fat. No one wanted to watch a fat actor on stage. He looked his best thin. So that’s why he was hungry, he remembered now. But was he usually _this_ hungry? This seemed worse somehow. He shook his head trying to clear it.

Finally, finally, everyone was leaving, leaving so he could sleep. Then he was afraid again. What if the men came back? What if they had stayed in the park and were coming back for him?

Becca handed him a pill and a glass of water. Were they calories in pills? Hux swallowed it. He drank most of the water. Becca took it back. She sat by him a moment later, stroking his hair, his real hair, the hair he could feel moving, rooted to his scalp. She stroked him like he was a kitten until the bed seemed to rush up under him and he was asleep.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello all of you dear people who have stuck with this story. Thank you SO MUCH to those who have been sending me messages and art and encouragement. You have no idea how much it helps. I love you guys so much.
> 
> Heads-up for this chapter: there is abusive language directed toward Hux and attack-related emotional fallout.

 

He was remembering. He didn’t want to remember. Hux wanted to turn back into that blissful blackness that had been his sleep up until a few minutes ago. 

_ Whore! _

Hux squinted his eyes against the memory of the man’s voice, the look on his face as he’d pulled out a pocket knife and had grabbed at him, fingers digging into his slim biceps, spinning Hux around and cutting through the stubborn knot that he hadn’t been able to rip free. Hux had kicked and scratched, but they had just grabbed his hands and held him still.

_ Let’s see your scrawny little ass, freak, _ another of the men spat as Hux wrenched himself in their grip, the hands on him tight and merciless. 

_ This is what whores like, _ the man said.  _ Little, skinny bitches that don’t know their place- _

“Hux?” 

He blinked, turning over in his cocoon of blankets. A figure was leaning over him, and for a moment his gut swam with liquid fear, threatening to make him gag.

“It’s just me,” Becca said calmly, brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. He relaxed at the sound of her familiar, female voice, head dropping back against the pillow. She handed him a bottle of water and he struggled to sit up so he could gulp it down, his throat dry and his stomach still churning with anxiety.

“Is everyone okay?” he rasped. 

Becca smiled fondly at him and nodded. “Yeah, Hux, everyone’s okay.” 

He threw aside the covers, the cool air welcome against his flushed skin. He was dressed in a pair of baggy, flannel pajama bottoms and, to his utter embarrassment (and secret delight), the sweatshirt he’d had stashed under his pillow. Becca must have helped him into the clothing sometime last night before he fell asleep. He remembered being dressed in jeans and a sweater while everyone else was in the yurt, standing vigil over him. He sighed and wiped his hands over his tired face.

“Oh, heads up,” Rebecca said, turning and helping him gather clothes and products for a trip to the showers, “Kylo is here.”

She had her back to him, and he hopped she didn’t notice the way he tensed. “Did he… sleep here?” he asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. He couldn’t help thinking of Kurt. The way he had looked at Kylo a few times before, like he wanted to  _ eat _ him...

Rebecca snorted. “No, Hux, he most certainly did not. None of us has a death wish.” Her eyes were twinkling with suppressed laughter when she glanced over at him.

“I didn’t mean… It’s not like I…” Hux was rarely lost for words. Becca shrugged and passed him his tote, complete with fluffy towel and washcloths. 

“We know he’s yours, Hux. Don’t worry.”

“What?” he squawked, clearing his throat and taking his voice down a notch. “He’s not  _ mine.” _

“Oh really? Have you told  _ him _ that?” When Hux only stared at her, she shook her head, pulling his blankets back to rights and making his bed absently. She paused, pillow in hand, looking back at him when she realized he hadn’t moved. Sighing, she fluffed the pillow before flinging it back on the bed.

“You didn’t see him, Hux.” Rebecca gestured vaguely, before picking up another pillow, seemingly just to have something to do with her hands. “When he realized you were in trouble. His face…” She shrugged, tugging the pillowcase and smoothing her hand over the surface. “He stayed late last night, helping get everyone fed and calmed down. He’s the one that kicked everyone out so you could sleep. And he’s out there right now, making enough coffee for an army.”

She turned her attention to getting the cooler put together with breakfast supplies, ignoring him as he stood in the middle of the yurt, having a tiny emotional breakdown. When he could walk, he slipped out of the tent and skirted around the main camp in order to avoid talking to anyone before he got himself put together.

In the shower, he turned the water as hot as he could stand it and let it pelt him for a good ten minutes. He scrubbed until his skin hurt. He knew the feeling of not being able to get clean enough, of feeling like there is that one extra layer of oily filth that refused to wash away. It was worse this morning than it had been in over a year.

_ A hand pinching the flesh of his stomach… a flash of disapproving eyes… a rumble of displeasure... Wet orange peels warping brittle wood… _

_ Slut! Just like her! You skinny little bitch… I’ll make you pay for taking our daughter, you whore! _

Hux clenched his teeth as he shampooed his hair for the third time, digging his fingers into his scalp as he rubbed. Bronson’s voice was getting mixed up with that of the man from last night, the two melding together. It had only aggravated Hux’s flashbacks when the man had pinched Hux’s stomach as he’d accused him of taking his daughter away, as if looking for a non-existent set of stretch marks.

Thank god one of the man’s buddies had gotten his shit together right then and talked the other guy into dragging the man off him. Getting kicked in the stomach by one of Hux’s bony feet had seemed to sober him up some. Hux had a moment of clarity, just before the man was dragged off of him, that he was about to be raped by a man who somehow thought he was the mother of his child. 

Hux didn’t look at himself in the mirror after he finally dragged his aching body out of the shower. Instead, he finger-combed his hair out of his face and brushed his teeth in one of the sinks not facing a mirror, blinking tiredly down at the porcelain. 

Kylo was still there when he got back to camp. Hux’s heart stuttered and hurt at the sight of him. Just last week Hux had been this man’s protector, and now the tables had turned. He’d never felt so helpless. Not since he was a child, at any rate. The site of Kylo coming through the woods, of finding him so quickly… it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes after the men had cleared off. The sight of that large body making itself smaller as he crouched in front of him, gentle hands at his back, his scared face scrunched up in worry…

Hux sank down in the chair to Kylo’s left, and someone handed him a mug of coffee as they passed. He took a sip and was surprised for a moment that it actually tasted like real coffee and not the burnt mud that Becca usually served them. He smiled gratefully at Kylo, thanking him, before they lapsed into silence again, sitting still in the middle of a flurry of activity.

Hux was handed a plate, which he accepted, though the thought of eating turned his stomach. He managed a few bites, mentally tallying the calories with worn-in determination, not really caring at the the moment and feeling guilty about it. He knew himself. If he let his guard down now, got sloppy and lax with himself just because he’d had a less than perfect evening the night before, he would slide right back into bad habits. It would be so easy to let himself go… to gain a few pounds, to let his clothes get wrinkles, to forget to whiten his teeth or get pedicures. And then… well, he didn’t even want to know. He would be alone forever, he supposed. No one would want him less than perfect. Not his family, not an audience... and certainly not a lover.

His eyes, the traitors, slipped over to Kylo. Hux realized with a sudden stab that Kylo had sought out the camp of his own volition this morning. No one had forced him to come, just like no one had forced him to stay last night. Hux watched out of the corner of his eye as Kylo made his way through his plate of food, ducking his head so that his hair fell forward, shielding his scarred face. 

Hux thought of those huge hands of Kylo’s touching him so gently to do up the corset laces. The way that Kylo had let Hux lean against him until he had gotten his feet under him again. God, he had been so careful, so kind.

Hux blinked hard. He was still trying to work out something to say, a way to express the pure gratitude he felt for what Kylo had done for him yesterday, for the fact that he was at the camp this morning. But then Kylo was standing up, scraping off his plate and handing it over to Carissa who was doing the breakfast dishes. A moment later, still speechless, Hux was staring at the path Kylo had just disappeared down, heading back to his own campsite.

Hux felt so… disappointed. So much so that it was like lead in his stomach. The few bites of food he had eaten turned over and threatened to come back up. If it was one thing Hux despised, it was throwing up, especially with an audience. He forced himself not to wretch, gripping the arms of the plastic camping chair until they creaked. 

The rest of the day he spent fending off the well-intentioned gestures of affection from his troupe. He wanted to be alone. To wallow. But they kept bringing him tea and fussing around the yurt, pretending to clean, when really they were just keeping an eye on him. It was driving him insane. Still, he sat there, ignoring them, scrolling through Facebook on his phone.

He was on Bronson’s page, looking through the pictures of them from two years ago. He stared at himself hard in those photos. He had been a little heavier then, though in the later pictures Hux could see the weight starting to drop off. It seemed to coincide with his smile dimming to a mere shadow.

He clicked out of the app abruptly and tossed the phone on the bed. Pulling up his tablet instead, he busied himself in plans for the spring season in London, thinking about the other actors he would have to hire in to supplement his core group so that they could cast the production that would start in February. 

It kept him busy enough that he almost didn’t notice when dusk had arrived and the troupe filed in to get the dinner supplies. Sighing, he heaved himself out of bed, where he’d been shamelessly lounging all day, and marched himself wearily out to the fire pit.

The fire was already roaring, Kylo throwing another log on the blaze as Hux watched from the path, stopped in his tracks and suddenly breathless. Kylo had come back of his own free will. Phasma wasn’t here, she wouldn’t be until Thursday. And yet there he was, large as life in a faded black T-shirt and jeans, his battered combat boots strapped haphazardly on his feet. Jesus, he was beautiful. Massive and so real in the firelight, his features thrown into sharp relief by the blaze.

Hux couldn’t… he just couldn’t go any closer. He stood, unmoving, for another full twenty seconds, before turning and heading swiftly in the other direction. He marched back into the yurt and grabbed his shower bag. Rebecca and Brandon shared a troubled look and pretended to be busy with preparing a salad and getting the ice ready for the cooler. Hux was grateful that they didn’t say anything, and he was back out of the tent in under a minute, heading for his second shower of the day.

* * *

Over the next few days, Hux found himself holed-up in the yurt, spending way too much time on the Internet, rather than getting anything productive done. He kept looking at the old photos on Bronson’s Facebook. Those first few months, they had both looked so happy. Hux’s smile in some of those early photos was wide and genuine, the corners of his eyes wrinkling up in a way that made him cringe internally now and want to reach for the eye cream.

Sure, things between them had ended badly, but at the beginning of the relationship, Bronson had been so much fun. He had been everything Hux thought he wanted in a life partner. Hux couldn’t help but notice that their’s were the only relationship pictures on Bronson’s profile. There were new photos, some from as recent as last week, but none of them seemed to be of anyone he was dating. His status still read single.

Was it a sign? Was Bronson still not over him? He’d wanted to marry him, was going to marry him. Maybe Bronson missed him. Maybe he still loved him.

Hux’s eyes went back to those first few month’s worth of photos. One of the captions read, “Can you believe this beautiful man agreed to go out with me?!” Hux felt a lump in his throat as he read the sentence, over and over. He thought he’d come to terms with the break up. Hell, hadn’t he come to terms with it even before breaking up with the man? So what was he mourning? What was it about his own smiling face that caused white-hot pain to flare up in his chest?

He considered messaging Bronson. They hadn’t talked since that night in the restaurant, when Hux had given Bronson back his ring and told him that he wouldn’t be marrying him. Had that been a mistake? Hux shook his head, trying to regain that sense of certainty he’d possessed when he’d left his fiancé. 

Hux missed him. Or well, he missed those first few months. He didn’t miss what Bronson had turned into or what their relationship had become. Still, it was familiar. He wanted to have Bronson’s praise, his deep voice murmuring how gorgeous he found Hux, how perfect…

The messaging notifications suddenly announced that Bronson was online. Hux closed the app so fast, he was left staring at the background image of his phone before he knew what happened.

He stopped checking Facebook after that.

* * *

“Are they pressuring you to take time off?”

Hux jerked in surprise. He looked over at Kylo’s earnest face. Hux blinked at him. Was Kylo actually initiating a conversation?

Over the past week, Kylo had come over every day, first to make the coffee in the morning, then to start the fire in the evening. They hadn’t talked much, though they often sat side-by-side. Tonight, they hadn’t been, and it caught Hux off-guard that his crush was leaning over the armrest of his chair next to him, studying him intently in a way that made his stomach burn.

Hux was even more shocked at Kylo’s offer to tell the troupe to back off, implying that he trusted Hux to know his own feelings on the matter, something that he couldn’t seem to get through Rebecca’s head. 

“I need to perform with the rest of you,” he’d told her earlier that night. “I can’t just abandon my post because of one stupid incident.”

Of course, that had led to a tirade from his best friend, on how it wasn’t just a  _ ‘stupid incident’ _ and how they were all worried about him. The exact opposite of what he’d wanted to hear. 

Kylo understood, somehow. Better than the rest of them. 

“Yes,” Hux answered him, trying to convey in one word how irritating he found their meddling. Kylo’s offer to tell them to all lay off made Hux smile gratefully, his heart beating a little bit harder at Kylo’s small, answering smile.

* * *

“Hey.”

Hux spun around and froze. He’d been walking without any real purpose other than to eventually catch up with the troupe. Becca hadn’t wanted to let him head back to the yurt alone, but he’d just needed a few minutes to breathe, to collect himself.

Being back in costume was proving harder than he wanted to admit. He kept being startled when people got too close to him, and he was sidestepping around guests in an awkward way that didn’t suit his character.

“Look, I am so,  _ so _ sorry.” 

The man stood in front of him, barring his way to the main path. Hux looked around quickly, assessing his options, ignoring the ice water that pulsed in his veins and the way his breath had just stopped dead at the sight of the man. His throat constricted and even his vision narrowed down, making him feel, sickeningly, dangerously, like he was about to pass out. 

Hux could run back the way he’d come, though he doubted he’d make it very far before the man caught up to him. And then they’d be even farther away from potential help. The man’s friends didn’t seem to be with him. Hux glanced swiftly around, checking to make sure that no one was hiding behind any tree trunks, waiting to pounce.

A hand stretched out to him and Hux flinched back, before seeing the wad of cash being offered in an open palm. “For your costume,” the man said. 

He tried to breathe. His limbs were trembling. He knew it was from the rush of adrenaline but that didn’t make him feel any less of a weakling. He couldn’t stand feeling weak. He hated feeling cornered and scared, like he so often had as a child. Armitage Hux did not get pushed around, not anymore, and certainly not by the likes of men like this. Hux steeled himself, slowly raising his eyes to the man’s face, prepared to see the spitting image of an enraged Bronson staring back at him. 

Hux blinked. Then blinked again. This man… he was not quite the same as Hux remembered him from last week. Confused, Hux let out a breath. The man standing in front of him, lit up by the clear afternoon sunlight, wasn’t nearly as large as Hux remembered. And he didn’t look anything like Bronson, not really. The same coloring, perhaps. A similar, though smaller, build. This man didn’t look angry or vindictive. He wasn’t sneering at Hux. If anything, he looked tired.

“What makes you think I want your money?” Hux ground out, still afraid, still running on adrenaline. Hiding it, as usual, with false bravado. 

The man blinked heavily, his outstretched hand shaking a little before he drew it back. “I-” he started, stopping to swallow thickly. Hux took in his bitten nails, the small speck of blood on his jaw where he must have nicked himself shaving. “I ruined your costume,” he finally said, his eyes flitting to and then away from Hux’s new corset and robes. “It must have been expensive and…” 

Hux watched the man struggling for words and sighed. “I don’t want your money.” The man looked lost, confused. He shuffled from foot to foot. Hux felt some of the adrenaline drain away. God, he was worn out. “I’m getting security.”

The man made a small noise of distress. “Wait!” he cried, moving to reach for Hux before pulling back like he’d been burned. “No wait, I’m sorry, okay? I’ve never done that before.  _ Never.” _ Hux recoiled. The man seemed about to cry. Again.

“I can’t let you attack someone else,” Hux said, annoyed with himself for even bothering to explain himself to this  _ clearly _ unhinged man.

“I wouldn’t! I won’t!” the man said, backing up a step and splaying his hands in surrender. “Listen, I’m an alcoholic, okay?” Hux scoffed, but the man carried on. “I, I fell off the wagon when my girlfriend left me for some Harley Davidson asshole she met while I was out working two fucking jobs to support us. She, she took our daughter, and…”

Oh god, he was going to start blubbering. Hux felt awkward on so many levels. What was wrong with him that his instinct was actually to comfort his attacker? He made a mental note to read up on PTSD, Stockholm syndrome, and anything else that might be applicable to his dismal sense of self preservation.

“I can’t just ignore that you and your friends tried to  _ rape _ me,” Hux said, secretly pleased that his voice was coming out so steady. 

The man looked shell-shocked. “I would never-”

“So what else were you going to do with me once you had me naked, hmm?” Hux asked, hiding the way his stomach dropped out at hearing his own words by scowling at the man in front of him. How  _ dare _ he treat what happened as trivial, as if it hadn’t brought back a lifetime of self doubt and self loathing that Hux could scarcely bear to think about, let alone live through all over again.

“I don’t know!” the man half-wailed. “Probably realize that you had a dick and weren’t my fucking girlfriend?”

Hux actually snorted. What the hell? “You could have killed me.”

“No! Listen, I’m not like that! I would never  _ actually _ hurt someone.”

Hux yanked up the sleeve on his robe and turned his arm toward the other man. The bruise was fading, turning yellow, but it was still clearly visible. The man winced. “You were saying?’

The man rubbed his face (probably to hide his blubbering, Hux thought with satisfaction) and then pulled at the hem of his shirt. Startled, Hux took a step back. The man only pulled the shirt up high enough to expose his ribs and the deep scratch marks that raked down his side.

“I have another set on my arm, and Will has them on his  _ face.” _

Hux smiled, cruelly, and the man sighed again. “Look, can you please just take the money?”

“We need to go to security,” Hux insisted.

“Please, just let me make it up to you some other way. If I get arrested, there’s no way I’ll get custody of my daughter. I don’t trust that asshole my ex is living with and-”

The man was cut off when a larger-than-life shadow loomed over him. His eyes went wide as he struggled against the huge hand that was suddenly wrapped around his throat. Kylo looked so eerily calm, standing there with all the immovability of a marble statue, while he squeezed the goddamn life out of the man in his grasp.

Phasma was screaming. Becca was screaming. A crowd was starting to gather and in the distance, Hux could make out the fluorescent vests of the security team rushing down the lane toward them.

Hux took one more moment to admire Kylo’s brute strength, before taking charge of the situation.

* * *

Hux was shaken, but also exultant. He’d faced down his worst fear and come out unscathed. Yes, his hands were trembling as he recounted the story in the yurt, but he was also flying. His attacker had been exposed as nothing more than a man: not some demon from his past. It was with a sense of relief that Hux slipped that normal, tired face in place of the monster that had haunted his dreams the past week. He wasn’t suddenly  _ all better, _ but at least he’d lost the urge to scrub his skin off trying to get clean.

It wasn’t until most of the Elves had already filed out of the tent that he realized that he was still in the bloody corset. All of the others had theirs neatly wrapped around the faceless mannequins, long silk robes trailing to the yurt’s floor.

Though he felt lighter, he also felt exhausted. He’d really needed to sell the idea that he was alright to his troupe so that they’d actually leave him alone for ten goddamn seconds, and the effort had been draining. Not to mention that the corset was keeping him ramrod straight and his wig felt like it weighed a ton.

Hux tried to stretch out his back a bit, but it was useless while he was still in costume. Phasma was at the flap of the yurt, talking with Kylo. He could always ask her to help, of course. But…

His eyes darted to Kylo and stuck fast. He looked as though he was standing guard over him, blocking the yurt’s entrance and glaring out at the world like a stone gargoyle. Phasma’s eyes met his own over Kylo’s shoulder for a brief moment, a smile passing over the woman’s lips. She left with a nod and wave over her shoulder. And then they were alone. 

Everything hurt. His neck, his back. Even his face hurt. He was tense and tired and just so glad Kylo was still there. The knight offered to go, but Hux quickly asked him stay. There was no way he’d be able to get the corset off by himself, especially not with how sore he felt, as if the entire week’s worth of strain had decided to make itself known the instant he felt even remotely safe.

His guard was down, Hux realized. With Kylo there, he actually felt safe. Protected.

Hux sat heavily at his vanity, the large mirror quivering as he rummaged through drawers for makeup wipes. He hoped that Kylo didn’t mind seeing him turn into a boring human. He knew that it could be disappointing, watching the ethereal facade dwindle and disappear.

He removed the wig, relieved beyond belief as he set it aside. He considered removing the skull cap as well, as it was not, in his opinion, an attractive look. But his hair was likely a raging mess, and at any rate, it was easier to remove his makeup without the annoying fluff of his hair getting in his eyes and sticking to his forehead.

Wiping his face, he peered at Kylo in the mirror. He was so large, so solid. Inescapable, somehow. A given fact, indisputable, standing at his back and filling up the mirror with his black garments and broad shoulders. Hux motioned for his help with the corset, talking him through the steps of its removal.

Hux couldn’t help but watch him in the mirror, Kylo’s fingers so gentle as he undid the knot, he didn’t even feel them. The only indication that Kylo had succeeded was the slow release of pressure around the top of the corset, the silky laces slipping minutely through the eyelets on their own, before coming to a rest.

The first tug was gentle. The second, less so, as Kylo worked steadily, pulling at the tight laces with grim determination. His eyes kept flicking up to Hux’s in the mirror, his hands getting rougher, frustrated by the tightness of the corset. From long experience, Hux knew that removing one of these corsets was not as easy as it looked. Even after freeing a large portion of one of the sections, the laces all slipped along on their own, evening out and regaining tension, only for the person working one them to start all over again from the top, tugging and pulling.

Hux rocked back on his stool, Kylo’s warm breath on the back of his neck as he began to pant, working faster, yanking Hux off balance. Hux held back a gasp, his whole body waking up at the rough treatment he was receiving under the other man’s hands. If he wanted, Kylo could probably tear the corset apart, metal underpinnings and all.

They exchanged a heated look in the mirror, the corset finally going slack around his ribs. Hux felt himself gaping at Kylo’s flushed face, his eyes so dark, they looked black. He could see the second Kylo decided to reach for him, to take the moment further, and he welcomed it. He wanted to feel that mouth on his throat, on his face. Everywhere. Those huge hands trailing behind, moving ahead, smoothing the way with fire.

Those hands were suddenly high on his sides, under his arms. Oh god, he was going to lift him right off the stool, manhandle him out of this fucking corset and-

“Knock knock!”

Kylo froze. Hux froze. Brandon came waltzing in, not a care in the world, arms full of the garments Hux had asked him to check on. Prattling away, oblivious to the two highly aroused, panting men at the makeup station, the Elf marched up to Hux’s bed and dumped his burdens on the coverlet.

By the time he had turned and noticed his troupe leader’s compromising position and flushed face, not to mention the look of pure horror from Kylo, the damage had been done. Hux shot Brandon The Look. Brandon visibly withered before fleeing the yurt.

Kylo was already drawing back. Hux thought frantically for ways to save the situation. He knew Kylo was shy, nervous. That being caught having a genuine emotion was terrifying for him. Maybe Hux could play it off, offer him a drink, see if he could rekindle the heat that had been between them a moment before.

Then he caught Kylo’s eyes, and his heart sank. The man looked terrified. Disgusted with himself. Hux thought back to a week ago, Kylo coming to his rescue, fixing the damage that had been done, pulling Hux back together. From the Knight’s point of view, he was undoing all of that, taking away Hux’s security. Stripping him rather than pulling him back together.

“No,” Hux said, wishing Kylo could believe him. Wishing it didn’t have to end this way. But Kylo was already shutting down, turning away from him. Then he was gone and Hux was left calling after him, gripping one edge of the loosened corset as he stood in the entrance of the yurt, unable to follow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://mothdustmouth.tumblr.com/)


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